


the melody you sing, like golden rivers

by scythias



Series: star wars [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Forbidden Love, M/M, One Shot, Slow Burn, Yearning, i miss them, social distancing got me feeling kinda off the shits, they're both dumb but they bond over other people being dumb it's weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scythias/pseuds/scythias
Summary: Maybe it was worth meeting Obi-Wan’s commander after all.(or: au where mace and cody can't catch a break from the war, the jedi, and themselves.)
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Mace Windu
Series: star wars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663864
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111





	the melody you sing, like golden rivers

**Author's Note:**

> i am bored, depressed, and i can't stop thinking about macecody so here. please tell me if i messed up the mando'a because god knows i don't know languages for shit. this entire fic is literally just mace and cody being lovestruck dorks while also giving the clones some goddamn respect because i refuse to believe that no jedi were advocating for their citizenship so... bam.
> 
> check me out as valdaluv on tumblr. you won't find anything good, i just wanted to let you know.

It started out subtle at first. Fleeting touches as they passed by one another, hands that were held too long in a greeting, eyes glancing from across the room to the other busied. They were not even aware they were doing it until well into the war. When the fleeting touches became gentle hands on a pauldron, when fingers intertwined almost refused to let go, when one would stare when the other was not looking or both would lock eyes and feel the planet cease to spin in the eternity they spent staring into each other’s eyes. They were falling, falling into a pit not many come back from, and they didn’t even notice it. The falling was subtle, and so were they.

When they had met, it was just that. A meeting. General Windu would be introduced to the clone commander of the 212th under the lead of newly-appointed Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was very ecstatic to let Mace meet the man he had been ranting about for weeks on end. “He’s very much an upgrade from Anakin,” Obi-Wan had joked, earning a humoring scoff from his former Padawan, who was standing right next to him. “Well-mannered and kind. I think you will take a liking to him, Master Windu.”

“That remains to be seen,” Mace tells him dryly, though he can’t help but feel a slight sense of optimism. He’s been hearing Obi-Wan’s many stories about how his commander has pulled him out of trouble when he had been lost in the thick of it, how good with words he was that could rival the Jedi Master’s if it came down to it. If the commander was great enough to have Obi-Wan commenting on him at every chance he got, then maybe there was something to look forward to with this meeting.

So General Windu had arrived at the base on a nearly Republic-secured planet to the sight of Obi-Wan and his commander, who stood by his General’s side and spoke of a plan of action to aid with a raid on a nearby Separatist base. His helmet was tucked beneath his arm, and his ivory armor was painted with streaks of sunset gold. He wore the same appearance as Jango Fett — wide nose, deep brown irises, even black hair that was cut into a military crop like the majority of the clone army. The real eye-catching part about him was the crimson scar that ran across the left side of his face, framing his high cheekbones and steely eyes. He stood tall and firm, the aura of a true and dignified soldier evident in his stiff posture and stoic facade.

Obi-Wan had caught sight of General Windu entering the war room, and a smile grew on his face that had not yet become weary of the battles that were forthcoming. “Ah, Master Windu. So glad you could make it.”

“Sorry if I am late, there was traffic along the way,” General Windu comments with a twinge of sarcasm. Out the corner of his eye, he sees Obi-Wan’s commander hide a laugh behind a poorly executed cough, and can’t help but feel the corner of his lips lift a little higher at the sight.

“Not to worry, there’s plenty of time for you and my commander to get acquainted.” The man takes that as his cue to step up side-to-side with Obi-Wan, who was smiling with pride as he laid a comfortable hand on the soldier’s back. “Master Windu, this is Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion. Also known as the remedy for my Anakin headaches.”

“It is an honor to work with you, sir,” Commander Cody nods. His eyes seem to crinkle as he does so, irises gleaming bronze from the sun that was shimmering through the skylights of the base. “General Kenobi has talked about you many times, how you take care of the clones under your command. It’s something to admire.”

Mace Windu nods back at him. He’s been in command of the 91st for a couple of weeks now, and he’s grown considerably attached to them despite the Jedi Code forbidding such things. Ponds is a great commander and a loyal friend, and the many troops that Windu can name by just their faces in the crowd were good company after a long, troubling battle. He feels an obligation to take care of these men he’s been put in charge of. They were not expendable, not to him, and he was determined to see that at least most of them would survive the battlefront in the future. To hear Commander Cody acknowledge his efforts lightened his mood considerably.

“Commander Cody,” Mace Windu says, “I’ve heard much about you. Mostly from Master Kenobi. Says you have been by his side in desperate times.”

“Just doing my part, General,” Commander Cody responds. Mace has a feeling that isn’t the first time he has uttered those words to another Jedi, a default response for being given compliments. That was how Ponds would always respond whenever Mace would note his quick thinking, only having grown out of it when the two were comfortable enough. But Mace doesn’t comment on the observation, as it was, frankly, too rude to be said aloud.

“Well!” Obi-Wan Kenobi stretched, yawning as he did so. There are dark circles growing beneath his eyes, which had always been there but have become more prominent since the beginning of the war. “You two seem to be getting along well, just as I had hoped! And apologies, I did not sleep as much as I had wanted to last night.”

“Why?” Mace questions him with a concerned eyebrow. “Nightmares? Visions?”

“Actually he had gulped down three cups of caf and pulled an all-nighter,” Commander Cody answers, his voice dripping with excessive amounts of exasperation and judgement. Obi-Wan staggers back at his Commander’s bluntness, clearly unprepared for being accused of such an action. “Didn’t sleep at all.”

“Cody!” Obi-Wan gawks at him.

“What?” There’s a small smirk growing on the commander’s face, poorly hidden as if it were his own intention. “You said you could go a few hours without rest. I’m sure this is important to tell the General.” There’s an edge of snarkiness to his words, Commander Cody’s playful side beginning to crack through the facade of a soldier, and Mace Windu can’t help but smile at the situation unfolding in front of him. Obi-Wan, the Negotiator, was practically speechless while his commanding officer merely stood there, vengeance burning in his honey brown irises.

Maybe it was worth meeting Obi-Wan’s commander after all.

Speaking of Obi-Wan, the man in question scoffed at both his commander’s attitude and Mace Windu’s amusement, crossing his arms and setting a begrudging look on both of them. “I feel betrayed, Cody. I hope you know that.” Suddenly his comm blinks, and his faux frustrated expression melts into concern. He sends them both an apologetic look and mutters an “excuse me” before he leaves to take the call. That leaves Mace Windu and Commander Cody alone by the holocommunicator placed in the center of the room. The Commander is still smiling, triumphant in his accomplishment of embarrassing his general.

“I did not take you to have a sense of humor, Commander,” Mace jokes, careful not to let his own expression betray him as it did the other two. The commander doesn’t even falter from his comment — in fact, he looks almost delighted that Mace takes notice of it as well.

“General Kenobi has not slept for the past thirty-six hours,” he tells him, voice dead-serious. “If there’s anyone to bug him about it until he takes a karking nap, it’s going to be me.”

Mace snorts. “Glad to know we are on the same page. Master Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to understand the concept of a break, albeit how much he needs it.”

Commander Cody sighs. “He’s dropped his lightsaber twice this past week. Twice. I’ve had to hold onto it for him both times.”

“Hm. You know, it’s common knowledge that a Jedi’s weapon is his life.”

“Makes sense if General Kenobi keeps on throwing it away.”

Mace, this time, breaks down into a full-out chuckle. “Why don’t we take a walk while Obi-Wan is on the comm? You seem like you need a breath of fresh air.”

Commander Cody sighs in relief. “That would be good.”

They make a few rounds around the desert base, the rolling dunes of golden sand stretching far into the horizon with the only promise of water being the reservoirs around the base and the supplies the troops had brought with them for the raid. Mace kept a steady pace, thinking that Commander Cody would be weighed down by the white and gold armor like the other clones were, and he was pleasantly surprised when the commander’s steps fell with and even surpassed his. He observed the landscape of sunset-colored sands with a keen eye, as if seeing it for the first time despite having been stationed there a lot longer before Mace had arrived. Mace could only guess why — this was a very drastic change from the raging oceans and stormy skies of Kamino that his troops called home.

“It really is beautiful,” Mace muses out loud, able to catch in the glimpse of an eye a reptilian creature burrowing itself into the sands, blackened scales disappearing within the ground. He expected no hostility from it, and made no move for the lightsaber that was clipped into place on his belt. “You know, before the Jedi intervened, there had been a civil war happening on this very planet.”

“A civil war, sir?” Commander Cody asked, eyebrows raising in interest at the subject.

Mace Windu nodded. “There was a severe power imbalance. Two groups of the people here overthrew the leading powers, but they proceeded to have a fight for the throne that ended up using up majority of the planet’s resources. We had even found a young force-sensitive girl here, scarred to the bone.” Though his voice does not waver, the Force around Mace falls quiet, falling to a mourning hum that makes the pit of his stomach grow. That civil war was one of the bloodiest Mace has ever seen, and here they were now, leading one of the sides in it. It didn’t feel right, but then again, so was the use of a clone army as a means of swift victory.

“That’s horrible,” Commander Cody said. “It’s… over now, right?”

“Oh, of course,” Mace answers. “The Jedi were able to settle the dispute by helping a new electee seize the throne. They’re still working on reconstruction to this day, but their road to recovery has not dwindled since the years.” He pauses for a second, accounting for how Cody might feel about his words. “I am sorry, Commander. I should not have mentioned such a gruesome subject. I’m trying to ease your head, after all.”

“No, it’s alright, General.” Commander Cody says, smiling ear to ear at Mace Windu. The Force had returned from its silence when he did so, a soothing song mending the crevice that had rumbled in Mace Windu’s belly. “I don’t mind learning more about other planets. Especially having to stop General Kenobi from getting himself killed almost every day.”

“When he mentions you having his back, he’s never mentioned ever losing his lightsaber.”

“Or cloak,” Cody adds. “Or armor. Or anything for that manner. I wouldn’t be surprised if he lost all his facial hair during a mission to Dantooine.”

Mace Windu chuckles. “I admire you Commander. You are a lot… bolder than others.”

Other commanders, including Ponds and Wolffe, wouldn’t have made these types of talk about their superior officers. Ponds and Mace had a good relationship, with both thinking like two heads in one for a course of action that needed their good teamwork. Master Plo was always talking about Wolffe and the 104th Battalion under him with the same delight as a father describing his children, speaking about them whenever he had the opportunity during Council meetings (and most of the stories were heartwarming, so they were welcomed with open arms). Cody, like them, still held the dignity and stature of a soldier. But he seems to be on Obi-Wan’s level when it comes to being bold — he isn’t afraid to speak his opinion on matters, straight to the point, even matching in their patience and exhaustion. It seemed the source of Cody’s exhaustion was with Obi-Wan, which seemed in good humor but could border on concerning depending on how much the Jedi Master mirrored his former mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn.

He certainly made the Force sing around him whenever he spoke. Mace would have mistaken him to be Force-sensitive, but it would be rather weird to ask, especially since no one truly knew if any of the clones were force-sensitive. The Jedi should look into it sometime in the future, and make sure that the Kaminoans didn’t find out about it either.

Commander Cody’s smile faltered, appearing somewhat awkward, possibly having never been told that before. “I apologize, General.”

“Oh, it’s not bad,” Mace responds. “Just an observation. Do you like working with Obi-Wan?”

Cody’s answer is quick and unhesitant. “Yes, sir. He might be a _jare_ sometimes, but he really is kind and thoughtful. He takes risks but most turn out well in the end, and his plans are not short of effective.”

Mace nods, seeing the bit of brotherly fondness in Cody’s gaze. “You speak Mando’a.” He knew that, like Ponds, majority of the clones knew many phrases in Mando’a, taught to them by Jango Fett and passed down between the batches. It was a little weird, Mace muses to himself, to be leading an army of the very man he had killed in combat. The clones voiced their objections when he had brought it up to them, but Mace could see the hesitance in their eyes. He knew that if they felt any ill-will towards him, it was deserved, and so he didn’t blame how their eyes cast downward and the shadows rippled across their faces.

“Course,” Cody says. “I actually know more than Commander Wolffe does.”

“Can’t he speak Mando’a fluently?” Mace asks. Cody’s smile is humble, but the glint in his eyes betray his facade.

“ _Elek, a Ni jorhaa'ir bic jate'shya_.”

Mace allows himself a twitch of the lips as they make another round of the base. Out between two of the hills that were located beneath the slope the base was perched next two, he can spot a traveler riding a large mammalian creature with wares strapped to its saddle. The footsteps the creature leaves in its wake are large and hooved, the beast almost threatening to cave in through the sand, though the creature persists. Mace Windu ceases walking, and Commander Cody besides him does the same, the two of them admiring the simple view of the landscape beyond. Mace inhales the scent of steaming suns and sandy dunes, his body calming with the quiet of the valley.

He takes a small glance at Commander Cody, whose dark amber skin glitters in the sunlight, golden brown irises gleaming as they observe the horizon. The crimson scar doesn’t ruin the image — in fact, it only strengthens it. Mace has many questions — where Cody got his scar, how he had felt about Obi-Wan when the two had met, how he had felt about the war that had only just begun — but he knew they were meant to be saved for another time. Mace had many issues to attend to, and it seems that the amber-skinned commander did so as well; it would be foolish to ask such personal questions in the midst of a raid. 

He feels a brush against his fingers. Commander Cody’s hand, accidentally having met Mace’s in the middle, gloved in black leather. The commander shoots him an apologetic look. “Sorry, sir.”

“It’s alright, Commander.”

They seem to stare at each other a little longer than necessary, the only witnesses being the Force that hummed around Mace’s chest. They’re interrupted, then, when Obi-Wan struts out of the base, luckily not in any panic but grim nonetheless. “There you two are!” he exclaims, exasperated. “I was wondering where you two have disappeared to. Master, our scouts told us that the best time of attack would be tonight in but a couple of hours. I trust that you can rally your troops by then?”

Mace Windu nods. “Of course.” He turns to Commander Cody with a respectful nod. “It was a pleasure to speak with you, Commander.”

Cody nods back. “Pleasure’s all mine, General Windu.”

The man follows Obi-Wan back inside the base, not looking back while Mace observed him as he went. Once he had disappeared, the melody that the Force was singing with gorgeous octaves fell to its simple tune, still peaceful and tranquil yet not as quite. He doesn’t think much of it at first. Meeting Commander Cody had not been a disappointment as he internally feared — in fact, Mace quite enjoyed the commander’s snarky rebuttals he hid within his facade. He was level-headed, a man of high intelligence and good charisma that fit exactly into the criteria of an army commander. He duly notes the way that the air shimmering in the heat begins to sing when Cody locks eyes with him, but proceeds to ignore it when pressed with other matters.

Something Windu notices during their raid of the base? Cody’s a different person when he fights.

Out of fights, he is very diplomatic, well-reasoning and holds a dignified stance that both commands respect and creates a sort of pillar for the troops to lean on if it ever came down to it. But when Cody is in battle, armed with a blaster and the armor that gleams like snake scales in the sunlight, he’s someone entirely new. His head is hidden beneath a helmet, but Mace can only imagine the ferocious snarl he curls it into when he lunges head-on into battle. At first glance one would call it reckless, but Cody’s too smart, too much of a stickler to strategy — no, each move he makes is calculated, and that is terrifying to the enemy that stands before him. As Mace Windu cuts through droids with his violet weapon, he watches out the corner of his eye as Cody marches through the army, blasting each metal hide with scary precision. He does not even falter when surrounded, instead moving to unique techniques that were pretty bold for a commander. 

At a point, Cody headbutts a droid that should have been an easy way for concussion to his head, but he barely staggers. He then proceeds to roundhouse an incoming B-1, then punches a droid’s head clean off. Strong, deadly. He moves like a viper between the Separatist armies, quickly downing the enemy one by one until the entrance to the base is all but cleaned dry. A troop under Cody’s command — Boil, Mace remembers — shouts at Cody for taking the spotlight, but the commander waves off the comment with what seemed to be snort. It’s a quick victory thanks to Mace, Obi-Wan and his commander, who had brought the droid count to a zero by the end of the night.

“I told you,” Obi-Wan laughed at Mace. He nodded towards Commander Cody, who had taken off his helmet and tucked it beneath an arm, speaking with another troop who, unlike the rest of the battalion, had armor still shiny and white, no speck of golden orange paint decorating its hide. “A good man.”

Mace Windu nods, not arguing a single bit. He observes Cody as he speaks with the rookie, noticing that the sweat on his face was practically non-existent compared to the other clones, or how his heavy breathing was not as labored as the ‘shiny’ he was speaking with. His hand rested on the younger’s shoulder pauldron, smiling tenderly at him akin to one given to a younger sibling. The clones, who called themselves _vode_ , were a tight brotherhood despite the millions of them, all brought up with the same purpose — to fight for the Republic. And Mace notices the same protective gaze Ponds has towards the 91st in Cody’s expression, soft and comforting. He doubts that even Obi-Wan himself has been given the same expression by him, far too personal for the clones to hold against others unlike them.

“He cares deeply for his men,” Obi-Wan continues, standing besides Mace with softened eyes. “He makes sure to take care of them, especially the shinies like Wooley over there.”

“It really is admirable,” Mace responds. He locks eyes with Cody after he mutters those words, though they only hold it for a second before Cody returns to his joyful conversation with the younger trooper. “You have an excellent commander by your side.”

Obi-Wan chuckles lightly. “Couldn’t ask for anyone better. That reminds me, what did you two talk about while I was busy? Certainly it must be important if you didn’t bring anyone else along with you.”

Mace doesn’t answer immediately. “He showed me around the base,” he answers, the lie easy as it was not a total lie but not the whole truth either. He didn’t feel it was necessary to tell Obi-Wan about his discussion with Commander Cody. Moreso, he didn’t seem to want to. It felt more of a personal conversation, one that Mace Windu was determined to keep locked up in a box and throw away the key. It’s not that he didn’t trust Obi-Wan to know what he and Cody have talked about, but there was just something exhilarating about keeping the contents hidden. Besides, they had spent minutes complaining about Obi-Wan, and he’s sure the Jedi Master would have retaliated with a winding speech that was bound to make even Count Dooku fall asleep. “We didn’t talk about much.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t seem convinced, only combing his fingers through his beard and humming in answer. He didn’t say anything more since one of his scouts, Waxer Mace recognizes, pulls him aside for a discussion on the supplies they were taking from the base. Mace returns to the observation of the battlefield. There were less casualties than usual, which was a pleasant relief after the battle. Taking the base wasn’t so difficult this time, but this would be a small miracle in the middle of the battles that no doubt would return, bloodier and grittier than ever. Mace Windu would steel himself by then, as he had adapted to the title of general rather easily, but his heart wrenches at the thought of more of the men under the Jedi’s command, falling and falling in growing numbers.

Were the Jedi truly prepared for this? To lead an army and fight a galactic civil war that spanned lightyears across the galaxy? His questions may be unanswered, but he feels as if sometime in the future, he will get one.

Commander Cody had stopped speaking with the rookie, Wooley, giving him a small nuggie on the head which held a mass stretch of curls that fell over his eyes. He could see Wooley laugh and swat at Cody’s hand before the latter left, approaching General Windu. He greets him, kindly, still worn from the battle but for the most part in well enough shape to tackle another Separatist fleet. 

“General,” he says to him. “You did great work out there.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Windu responds, reminiscing about how Cody had moved between the droids like it was nothing, quickly disarming and defeating one by one without a care for their steel hide that seemed to only come apart at the presence of blaster fire. “I’ve seen you fight. You move like Jango Fett.”

It slips out unintentionally, and Mace Windu can already hear the sirens going off in Cody’s head when he mutters the name that no doubt would bring up bad memories. The way that Ponds and the others of the 91st spoke of Jango Fett was like children speaking of their fathers. Mace Windu only knew that Jango Fett had overseen the training of the clone cadets over the ten years the clone forces have been growing, and despite what the Kaminoans have told them, Jango seemed to be very fond of them as far as he could tell. And they, in turn, were fond of him. Which meant that Mace was most likely an extra thorn to the wound.

He wonders for a second if he had broken the carefully constructed trust he had formed with Obi-Wan’s commander, but Cody doesn’t seem to be angry with him for being Jango Fett’s killer. In fact, his face becomes softer, surprise twisting his face into an expression that even Mace couldn’t read. “Oh. Thank you, General.”

Mace nods, and thinks for a miniscule of a moment before he pushes the subject a little further. “Have you… trained with him?”

Cody pauses, obviously thrown on his rhythm by the question after the unsolicited compliment. “I was a part of the batch directly trained by him,” he answered. “Jango taught me hand-to-hand combat personally.”

Mace hums. “You’re good.”

Mace Windu could wince at his blunt comment. Unfortunately, he had never flinched once he had spoken his mind, though the words he had spoken were so simple and straight-forward he may as well be Anakin when he had not yet gained the same way with words Obi-Wan had. Though Commander Cody doesn’t seem to mind, smiling gratefully to Windu, albeit the hesitance evident in it. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sir!” Ponds yells out, thankfully saving Mace Windu from an awkward silence that no doubt would kill him before General Grievous could even cough. He approaches them, dark crimson paint gleaming in contrast with Cody’s calming sunset, walking forward with strong strides. “Supplies are all ready to go. We’re ready to move out when you are.”

“Very good, Commander,” Mace says to him. Ponds smirks at him, lop-sided as it always has been, before he catches eye with Commander Cody.

“So, General, you’ve already met the demon that is the Commander of the 212th,” Ponds laughs. Cody visibly rolls his eyes at his comment, so hard that Mace thinks they would have shot up from the backside of his head. 

“Very funny, _vod’ika_ ,” Cody growls, though he doesn’t complain when Ponds throws an arm around his shoulders, tense lines around his face disappearing at the gesture of affection. 

“You two seem well acquainted,” Mace muses. The two seem close, though not with the intensity that Obi-Wan claims Cody has with Commander Wolffe and Captain Rex. “Is there a reason you hadn’t introduced me to him sooner?”

Ponds shrugs off-handedly. He was very stern and stoic in battle and strategy, but outside of it, his playful and youthful side would show from beneath his gritty facade. “There wasn’t time.” He glances between Cody and Mace, suddenly interested in the two's personal relationship now that the two were side-by-side. “So, General, I hope that Cody didn’t give you a hard time? He can get really intense when he talks.” He whispers the last statement, though it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.

“ _Ni kelir kyr'amur gar_ ,” Cody spits out.

Mace Windu takes a sort of pleasure in watching the two bicker lightheartedly, too akin to actual siblings instead of clone soldiers in a grueling war. He can’t keep the amusement from his voice when he answers Ponds’ question. “Commander Cody has been good company. I’d say he gave me the opposite of a hard time.”

Something unreadable grows on the commander’s face when he voices his response, meeting Mace’s gaze that may have softened as he said so. “Thank you, sir.”

Ponds is quiet during the whole ordeal, confusion evident on his face until something hits him full force, but as he opens his mouth to comment, Master Obi-Wan calls out across the armies gathered after his discussion with Waxer and Boil. “Gentlemen, we are finished here! We will regroup at base and head back to Coruscant next morning! Come along!”

Cody squirms out of Ponds arms, shooting both of them a grateful and apologetic look before he follows Obi-Wan, shouting orders to the others of the 212th as he does so. “You heard the General! Move out!” His voice morphs into a booming war cry, if you could call it that, much louder and stricter than Obi-Wan’s own vocals, making the troops’ backs straighten and their distracted heads snap back at attention. He pulls back on his helmet, the back of his dark neck disappearing beneath the white and gold, falling in line next to Obi-Wan and keeping tabs on his troops.

“Told you,” Ponds comments. “Intense.”

Mace hums in response. He doesn’t often forget to focus on the task at hand, and he doesn’t, but he lingers for a few moments on Cody by his general’s side. He quickly snaps back into his mode, and orders his troops to move out as well behind Obi-Wan’s battalion. Ponds is by his side as they march across the rolling dunes, uncharacteristically quiet. He usually started up a conversation with Mace once a battle had succeeded, but now he had fallen silent. It made Mace worry.

“Something wrong, Commander?” he asks, the concern slipping out in his tone of voice. Ponds’ head turns, his helmet shielding any sort of facials that Mace could examine. He shakes his head.

“Nah,” he answers. Mace doesn’t sense any sadness or anger from him, rather something entirely knew — a mirth in his voice as he answers his question. It only serves to puzzle Mace. “Just thinking.”

They start up their usual talks, starting out with a debrief for what they would do once they would return to Coruscant that eventually morphed into a discussion of Mace’s lack of sleep that did not yet rival Obi-Wan’s but bordered that limit. Mace listened and spoke intently, chuckled here and there, finding comfort in Ponds he would rarely find when it came to many Jedi in the order. He really had a soft spot for his men, despite how cold other sentients had made him out to be. He laid a gentle hand on Ponds' back, the plastoid hard against his fingertips, and they talk for the majority of the march back to the base.

In front of them, Mace could still hear Commander Cody’s bellowing voice, and the Force laughs alongside him.

* * *

The second time they meet, Mace senses his presence without even turning to him. His battalion alongside Obi-Wan and Anakin’s were destroying the droid factories that were located in a system of planets in the Outer Rim. There were three main ones, and if destroyed, with hope, it would discourage the other factories into decommission. Mace Windu was taking the droid factory located in the center of the trio alongside Commander Ponds and the 91st, and they were doing well up until the Separatists sent in reinforcements. He called for Obi-Wan’s Ghost Company and Anakin’s Torrent Company to aid him and his troops, whose numbers were dwindling by the minute.

It was when Mace Windu had decided to keep the front line secured, instructing his troops to lay in hiding and wait for his signal. He leapt over the manmade barricade they had created during the battle, activating his lightsaber and dashing towards the droids with steps quick as lightning. He decapitates one with his saber, crumples another with an outstretch of the Force. His ear is nearly singed off from one of the B-1s, but he quickly anticipates the blast and dodges effectively, ducking beneath the shot and quickly splitting the droid in half. His moves are aggressive, unpredictable, his Form VII unlike any other Jedi. He punches a super battle droid in the face, kicks back several B-1s with ease. He doesn’t tire for a second, continuing to push their lines of defense before the droids could gain an upper hand.

He doesn’t falter when several droid commandos enter the scene. They were far more agile than both the B-1s and the super battle droids, wielding vibroblades and blasters aimed straight at the metaphorical target on the back of Mace’s head. He steels himself, letting his blade guide him, steeling his gaze on the approaching droid reinforcements that seemed to be never-ending. Despite their far superior model to the other droids Mace was faced with, he was ready, stance cautious and calculating as the fires of his soul burned in his eyes.

Then he hears it. Force begins to sing, a melody Mace hasn’t heard since a month back, and he only has a moment to recognize its tune when one of the droid commandos is shot point blank in the head. The droids stop their advance, looking up towards one of the large crates that lined the room, where a single clone trooper stood, blaster smoking in his hands. Mace recognized the armor, even from far away — the golden orange paint lining his shins and guards, the antenna sticking out from one of his shoulder pauldrons, the shade that rested above the visor where his eyes were trained on the battle at hand. It’s all quiet, the only sound in the air being the singed metal of the droid commando, electricity crackling from the hole pierced beneath his eyes.

It is broken, then, by Commander Cody’s voice echoing across the chambers of the factory. Like falling angels, at his command, the troops of the 212th descended from the skylight embedded into the ceiling, slowed in their descent by black ropes that were fashioned around their waists. In a singular second, the battle blazes once more, blaster fire raining down on the droids without mercy. Mace Windu nods at Ponds, who orders the troops to fall out and attack, and the 91st leave their barricade to once again begin the offensive. Mace Windu catches a glimpse of Obi-Wan, arriving through the ceiling in a dramatic flourish, landing on the ground with barely a wince. His lightsaber glows a sky blue, and he grins at Mace Windu who looks at him unimpressed.

“Took you long enough,” Mace says to him, voice dry. It only serves to make Obi-Wan’s smirk grow.

“Sorry, my friend.” He pauses in his sentence to deflect a blaster shot, skillfully ricocheting off his saber to hit a droid that was about to kill a wounded troop. “Assault took a lot longer than expected. We came here as fast as we could.”

“And Skywalker?”

“Still pushing back the droids at the third factory.”

Mace holds out his hand, willing the bolts of a super battle droid to come loose, intense focus paying off when the droid’s machinery falls apart and it cripples into pieces on the steel floor. “Well, your help is appreciated. Let’s hope Anakin is finished before we have taken all his spotlight.”

Obi-Wan laughs. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

He doesn’t sound that promising, but Mace doesn’t comment.

They push the assault forward some more, and the droid numbers begin to dwindle to a small hum, though Mace knows that by the time they have depleted the enemy ranks, more and more would arrive to make up for the loss. There had to be something to shut them down for good. 

At one point, Mace is beginning to be cornered by a group of super battle droids, and he takes a few steps back before his back meets with another trooper’s. He looks back and is greeted by the sight of Commander Cody, blaster aimed at the droids surrounding them, relatively unharmed and just as fierce as he fought. Mace couldn’t help but smile, feeling that there was some sort of joke hanging in the air that him and the commander shared. “Pleasure seeing you here, Commander,” Mace tells him as the two rotated around their little formation, eyeing the approaching droids with intensity. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, you know, General,” Cody offers with a light-hearted tilt to his tone despite the current situation. “Just dropping by to pick up the mess. Nothing personal.”

Mace snorts at the comment. “Thanks for the help. When you and your general were taking out the droid factory, how did you manage to push back the reinforcements?”

“We didn’t,” Cody said. “Obi-Wan snuck into the reactor core. Told us that there was a bomb planted within it that could be manually detonated. There’s a countdown for it, though — a minute tops before the entire factory explodes.”

Mace Windu shakes his head. “Why do the Separatists always have a contingency plan that involves exploding their facilities?”

“I don’t know, sir. But… I can only guess that you are going the same route General Kenobi did?”

“You guessed right, Commander. Care to accompany me?” 

“I’ll let you know after we deal with these clankers.” Cody takes the lead and Mace Windu follows with keen eyes, and the two quickly dispatch of the surrounding enemy with blazing violet and striking blue, taking them out in under a few minutes. Mace Windu had yelled at Obi-Wan that he was going to head to the reactor core, and he and Cody had dashed for the lift at the end of the complex floor before Obi-Wan could even say anything. Cody quickly punched the panel on the side of the door when they entered the large space. The lift rumbled with a large groan before beginning its descent, slow and stubborn.

“If it’s anything like the factory we had blown up before,” Cody told him, “the reactor core is only a few floors down. But be on alert — Obi-Wan said there were a couple of droids positioned to guard the computer system.”

Mace nodded. “How many droids?”

Cody was about to answer when the lift had reached the bottom floor, cutting all conversation short by the sight of an entire platoon of droids waiting outside the elevator to add to the reinforcements up at the main floor. It felt almost surreal, if Mace Windu could call it that, the droids clearly as surprised as they were. For a few moments, everyone was still. 

“Oh,” Mace breathes out, voice dry. “That many.”

Cody nods. “Yeah.”

Quiet again. Then the droids raise their blasters at the order of the platoon sergeant, aiming straight at their chests. Mace Windu can’t afford to be caught off guard anymore. “Get behind me!” he yells at Cody, who oliges immediately and shields himself behind Mace’s taller form while the latter deflects back the blaster fire that rains their way. The commander leans from his side at intervals, shooting droids that dared to come closer to their section of the lift. Mace stretches out his hand and pushes the droids back with a shove, effectively scattering them. With less droids obscuring their sights, Mace is treated to the view of a gargantuan cavern stretching for kilos across, much larger than the factory above them. In front of them was a metal walkway, hatch patterns decorating the path, leading to a central computer terminal guarded by several more droids. Down below was the reactor core, buzzing with energy.

“That’s the central computer, if I’m not mistaken.” Cody nods in grim confirmation. “You have a plan of getting there?”

“I think running would be our best option at the moment.” Cody points to several other walkways leading to the central controls, five in total counting the one him and Cody had entered. Droid commandos were stationed on each one, turning their heads in alarm at the intruders to the reactor core, and began blasting and vaulting off the side of walls to get to them. Mace twirls his lightsaber in hand, nodding to the commander and they take off in a sprint to the center control panel. 

It’s not a far run, but with the droid commandos jumping onto the walkway brandishing their vibroswords and such, blocking their path, it takes a lot longer than anticipated. Windu’s blade cuts through each droid in their path, but with every one cut, another one replaces it, just as deadly. Mace doubted he would have reached the reactor core terminal in time if it weren’t for Cody beside him, fending off the incoming droids with swift kicks to the neck and blaster shots that near never missed their target. They reach the end of the walkway after dismantling several rolling droidekas that provided backup, where a tactical droid was stationed with two super battle droids flanking its sides.

Commander Cody took two daring shots, quickly incapacitating the two guards by its side. The tactical droid barely even had time to react when Mace lifted it up into the air, threatening to crush it into a metal ball if it tried anything. 

The droid had taken notice of them when they had entered the reactor core, judging by the rapid beeping of the terminal. A distress beacon to the factory. “ _You’re too late_ ,” it buzzed, its mouth line beeping with every syllable. “ _They know you’re in here. Reinforcements are on their way._ ” 

“We’re counting on it,” Mace tells it with a piercing glare, silencing it. He turns to Cody, still holding the droid in mid-air. The commander had quickly shut off the beacon, though the alert had already been noticed by the droid army occupying the floor above. “What do we need to do to activate self-destruct?”

Cody tapped on the terminal, and Mace could sense the frown he was hiding beneath his helmet. “That’s weird. This isn’t like the other terminal Obi-Wan said he hacked. There’s no manual command for the bomb… wait…” He punched a few more keys before his hands froze up. “Huh. Okay.”

Mace scowled, feeling a headache come on despite his best intentions to keep himself tethered. “What is it? Is there an issue?”

“Quite the opposite actually,” Cody answers him with a failed attempt to appear emotionless. “Apparently there’s no manual command for the bomb to activate. All you have to do is injure the terminal and the countdown starts.”

“Oh.” Mace unceremoniously drops the tactical droid into the reactor core pit below, blocking off its screams of terror before it is silenced by a blaze of electricity. “That’s simple.”

“ _General Windu!_ ”

Anakin. Master Windu deactivates his lightsaber and presses a finger to his comm, eyes trained to the surroundings as Commander Cody continues to mess with the controls. “General Skywalker,” he greets. 

“ _The 501st just arrived as back-up_ ,” Anakin told them. “ _But the droids have begun retreating to the lifts in the back. Obi-Wan told me you ran off to the reactor core?_ ”

“Affirmative. I need you and your troops to get everyone outside safely before we activate it. We’ll be able to blow the factory clean once it’s empty.”

“ _Blow up the— is there anyone with you?_ ”

“Commander Cody is here, don’t worry, Skywalker.” Windu shoots the clone commander a look. “Commander, we have only a minute to get outside the factory before it explodes, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Cody pulls his eyes away from the computer, as if sensing trouble brewing which Mace felt as well. The sound of grueling machinery fills the air, reminding them of the warning the tactical droid had given them before its demise, promising a handful of reinforcements to their location. “We’ll need to hurry. They’re almost here.” He unholsters his blaster, aiming at the walkway where the lift they had arrived on had dropped them off, the sounds of the elevator descending to the reactor core floor deafening with its rusty groans. 

“ _Wait, wait, wait!_ ” Skywalker continues, frustration and confusion bleeding through the comm. “ _How are you two going to get out there? If you need it, I can come as back-up—_ ”

“That won’t be necessary,” Mace interrupts. “I have it all under control. You focus on getting the troops out of here and to a safe distance away from the factory. Comm me when you’re ready and I’ll start the countdown.” 

Anakin tries to argue some more before he heaves a sigh of defeat, too weary to disobey orders at this time. “ _Alright, but if anything happens, I’m jumping down there and helping._ ”

“I know you will. Windu out.” He leaves his comm buzzing, unclasping his lightsaber from his belt and watching as the striking lavender beams from the metal. He holds it to his chest, glaring at the lift that was only a mere floor away from the reactor core. However, once it had made it a few feet from the entrance to the walkway, it came to a grueling halt. Mace frowned, before looking at Commander Cody, with one hand on the terminal and the other aiming his blaster at the entranceway. Cody gives him a look beneath the helmet.

“I overrode the lifts,” he explained. “Should give Generals Skywalker and Kenobi enough time to leave before we blow the place.”

Mace hummed. “How long will they hold?”

“Don’t know, but clankers can be smart when the time comes for it — with any luck, they’ll be able to get the lifts back on by the time the troops are out of the building.” He pauses for a moment. “How _are_ we going to get out of here, General? You have an escape plan?”

Mace Windu inspects the roof of the large cavern of the reactor core. Above them, he realized, was the floor where the battle had been raging before Kenobi and Skywalker arrived, the glassy roof letting him get a good view of the lines of troopers falling back, carrying wounded between their soldiers and pushing back the remaining clankers. He narrowed his eyes, seeing a large pane of glass that had been broken to pieces, a hole the perfect size to climb through right above one of the other walkways. He devised a plan; he knew it was risky, but then again, so was the decision to set off a bomb while he and Cody still resided in the building. It was their only option if they didn’t want to end up dead in the reactor core.

“ _Master Windu!_ ” Obi-Wan yelled through his comm. “ _All of the remaining troops have left the building. You should set off the bomb now, they’re beginning to—_ ” The comm crackles, the connection beginning to die out from a foreign interference. Obi-Wan’s message had arrived at just the right moment — the elevators were back online, and Mace could see rows upon rows of droidekas, super battle droids, and droid commandos inside of the five lifts to the reactor core. If the pounding of his head wasn’t deafening his ears, he could have heard Commander Cody curse right next to him.

“Time to go!” Mace quickly plunged his lightsaber into the terminal’s control panel. Almost immediately, the display sputtered before a countdown clock appeared. No time to waste. “Follow me!” He led Cody to the walkway he had noted from before, watching as the lines of droids began blasting at them from afar. Mace attempted to deflect the blasts that came their way, though the sleeve of his robe was singed by one he had failed to parry, and Cody’s antenna that sprouted from his shoulder pauldron was shot clean off. Luckily, they were able to get to the center of the walkway, right beneath the opening in the ceiling. 

“Okay, what now?” Cody yelled at Mace, blasting some of the droid commandos that were sprinting and flipping through the air, determined to cut through their hides with the sharpened blades they held. He followed Mace’s gaze up to the ceiling, where the broken pane was evident. “General, that is too far—”

“Cody, do you trust me?” 

“What?”

“I said,” Mace repeated, quickly ducking a blast and spearing a droid that had snuck up behind Cody when he was turned away, “do you trust me?”

Cody answers by punching a droid right in the face to prevent it from shooting Windu straight through the heart. “Of course!”

“Good, now hold onto me!” 

He would have laughed if the situation wasn’t dire, because he is sure that judging by the snap of Commander Cody’s neck he was looking at him with the most bewildered look, but nevertheless he didn’t question his words. The commander wrapped his arms around Mace’s shoulders, muttering a “damn _Jetii_ ,” under his breath as he did so; Mace Windu probably snorted at the comment. He then shut off his saber and hauled up the commander, bracing himself before — willing the Force to cooperate with what he was about to do — jumped as high as he could manage.

It proved successful, the Force carrying him certainly much higher than what a normal human would be able to perform on their own, and he’s able to squeeze through the opening in the glass pane roof. Mace falls back down onto the ground with a huff, but he has no time to even think before he places Cody back on his feet, and they take off running towards the exit of the droid factory. Despite Skywalker, Kenobi, and Windu’s troops having taken care of majority of the droids, there were still around tens of hundreds scattered around. They were alarmed at first by their sudden appearance through the cavity in the floor before they began blasting once again. But Cody and Mace were too quick, ducking beneath their fire as the entrance to the factory came into sight.

Eternity had passed when they had finally reached the exit. Mace sensed that the bomb was about to go off any second. Up ahead less than a klick away and a safe distance from the forthcoming destruction were their men, with General Kenobi and Skywalker speaking hastily with one another. Skywalker seemingly sensed their presence, head jolting to where the general and commander had reached the blaster doors of the factory. “There they are!” he yells out, or at least that’s what Mace could read on his lips, pointing to them. But then he feels it. The bomb has detonated. It was spreading outward from the building. 

“ _General, get down!_ ” Cody screams out, and Mace Windu is pushed down onto the rocky ground with the commander atop of him just as the explosion hits them. The force is enough to make his skin burn beneath his bare armor and his Jedi robes, nearly splitting him apart, but they were just the safe distance away from the complex to be relatively unharmed by the blast. Mace closes his eyes, taking in the heat with a resilient patience as his nostrils are stuffed to the brim, and he’s able to regain the rest of his consciousness after a few waking moments. When he opens them again, ash swirls around his vision.

Cody rolls off his back. He’s breathing heavily, and the commander proceeds to strip off his helmet to take in laboring breaths, chest heaving up and down beneath the sucied white torso plate of armor. Sweat pours down his face in streams. Mace Windu feels the exhaustion of such a long and grueling battle set in his bones, and the ache settles in him, his body too heavy to even stand upright. But at least he’s alive, and that Cody’s alive, and that most of the troops had made it out in time. 

Then he hears it. A melody. But not from the Force which sings elegantly in the air, flowing through all the living things that reside in the galaxy beyond. No, it’s Cody. Laughing. He’s laughing, breathless and heartily, eyes crinkling as he grins back at the ruins of the droid factory. It could have been mad to laugh in the face of a disaster, after that whole ordeal, the commander pretty much deserved it. Mace thinks he’s smiling as well, but he doesn’t get the luxury of confirming it with himself when General Skywalker and Captain Rex arrive at the scene, quickly pulling them back up to their feet.

“And you say I take risks,” General Skywalker taunts at him. General Windu rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed but the fond twitch of his lips betray his facade. By them, Captain Rex hooks an arm around Cody’s waist, propping Cody’s own arm around his shoulders. 

“I’ve got you, _vod_ ,” Captain Rex tells him. “You alright?”

“I am,” Cody tells him, leaning on him and trusting Rex to keep him upright. He stumbles when he attempts to step forward. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Too late for that,” Rex comments. “Come on, we got some water with the other troops. You’ll be up and walking by yourself by then.”

He leads Commander Cody away. Mace Windu recovers from the aftermath of the explosion after a few moments, Anakin assisting him with standing before letting go when he stopped tilting at an angle. Just as Mace stands independently, Obi-Wan approaches them with an amused expression. “Well, I’m rather miffed you stole my Commander away without my permission to take part in your deadly schemes. I take you two had a lot of fun?”

“Livid,” Mace answers sarcastically. “We hijacked all the elevators and jumped through the roof.”

“Aw, what?” Anakin pouts. “How come you got all the adventure? Me and Rex didn’t even have to deal with droids — a bunch of carnivorous creatures were hogging up the factory. We had to deal with them before we could even set off any explosions.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Obi-Wan says, “you did ride one of them and turn another into a bowling ball.”

Anakin grinned. “Okay, maybe we had a little fun.”

“Good to know, Skywalker,” Mace tells him, eyebrow quirking in humor. “We should move out now. We can’t stay here when the Separatist come to scavenge through what’s left of their factories. Get us to the fleet, and we’ll debrief on the route back to Coruscant.”

“Of course, Master.”

“On it, Master.”

Within hours they were back on the fleet, after briefing Masters Yoda and Luminara, with Commander Gree present as well. After the meeting, Anakin had pulled Obi-Wan away for some Master-Padawan bonding time (Mace hoped it did not come at the expense of his, Obi-Wan’s, or any of the men’s sanity). Ponds had just left alongside Rex to head to the mess hall, giving a salute to Mace as he left, lopsided grin disappearing out the doors of the deck. That left Mace Windu alone with Commander Cody, who had told his fellow commanding officers that he would join them for supper in a bit. He was tapping furious on his datapad, taking log of the mission that day.

“I wanted to thank you,” Mace had told him. Cody’s eyes drifted up from the screen, fixating on Mace’s own. “You saved my life out there.”

“It was nothing, General,” Cody told him, smiling politely at him. Like the strong man he was, he had recovered from the explosion pretty quick, already standing back at the rigid posture he held without fatigue. “Besides, you were the one to get us out of the reactor core. If you weren’t there, I might as well have jumped into the pit.”

Mace allows himself to snort at the image. “Well, then, we’re both responsible for keeping us alive out there. You did great work.” He places a hand on Cody’s shoulder pauldron, smiling at him. “Get some rest, Commander. You deserve it.”

Cody seems to forget how to function for a moment before he nods, along with a smirk and that same keen glint in his eyes. “Only if you promise to get some yourself. It’s only fair.”

He really was a bold one. “Alright. I promise.”

“Good.” Cody’s face is glowing with victory. “See you soon, General.”

“You too, Commander.”

Commander Cody leaves the deck to join his brothers in the mess hall, and Mace’s hand slips off its place on his shoulder. Mace could be imagining it, but he can hear Cody hum as he walks away. It’s a tune he’s never heard before, and it’s so quiet that if Mace didn’t have such adept ears he may have missed it. But as he listens to the small melody before Cody’s body disappears through the door, he confirms with definition that he was certainly humming beneath his breath. Mace doesn’t really gain anything from the information, but it does cause his hard-edged gaze to affix on softer features. His chest feels a little lighter than before.

He tucks his hands behind him and looks out into the stars that have become striking whites lines outside, flowing past them through the window, drowning the world in an elegant blue. He feels at peace here, the Force humming that strange tune it made, his soul finding rest after a long fight. He observes the galaxy beyond that passes by him in lightspeed before retreating to his quarters to meditate.

* * *

It’s the second year into the war. It seems to grow bloodier with every day, sadly satisfying Mace’s worries for the war that would no doubt escalate over time. Every time he steps off a transport he is faced with yet another army of droids and the leaders of the Separatist armies not close behind. With each fight ending with losses that amounted to millions, no one can find comfort in rest anymore; The Jedi have become so intertwined with the long battles that they can barely think in anything but military strategies, barely find the time to take a break and meditate on the current state of the galaxy. Mace is one of those Jedi. He’s adapted well into the role of a High Jedi General, and takes his responsibility without a falter as he leads troops into yet another bloodfest.

It’s chaos out there. Jedi, clones, innocents and guilty falling left and right. This was the future the Jedi were aiming to exterminate in these winding conflicts, but that did not aid the feeling that they were only adding to the conflict. Maybe the Separatists had thrown the first stone, but the Council was the first to retaliate. And now war rages across all frontiers, until all the known universe has been subject to the terror that came to be known as the Clone Wars.

Mace has lost many since its start. Master Ima Gun-di and his second-in-command, Captain Keeli. Newly-appointed Knight Nahdar Vebb. Kind-hearted and humble Bolla Ropal. And… Ponds…

He tries not to think of the way his commander looked at him in his final moments before that bone-skinned bounty hunter shot him through the head, chin held in defiance with that lopsided grin of his, the last Mace Windu had seen him smile like that before the shot echoes throughout the hologram. When it happened, Mace’s heart was torn to shreds; as if it were not Ponds’ skull but rather Mace’s own chest that had taken the blaster shot. It was through great perseverance that he remained with a level-head, but he would not admit to most that when they had finally retrieved Ponds’ deathly cold body from the depths of space, his soul was ripped from his ribcage. A void had brewed in his chest that day, cold yet burning like the vacuum of space Ponds had been left to deteriorate in.

Though, even in these days where battles were long and tolls of deceased rose to new heights, there are moments of quiet. Despite their current roles as generals for the Grand Army of the Republic, the Jedi were still peacekeepers. Helping secure a treaty between two peoples for the first time on a planet was a form of this, and General Windu sighed a breath of relief when he had been asked along with other Jedi to oversee the occasion. He had arrived alone in his fighter jet, the 91st left to rest on Coruscant after aiding in yet another civil dispute. The mission Mace was assigned was tame, and had nothing to do with the Clone Wars at all, so it was surprising even to him that he had accepted the proposition when he was kept busy with the war effort. Maybe it was that he has not been a peacekeeper in so long, and that he must get back into the habit. The planet was Republic-aligned as well, and they were very adamant about sending supplies to the GAR whenever needed, so helping with a small event would be able to secure their faith.

When he arrives, the people escort him from the landing zone to their dining hall settled beneath the largest building in the area, showering him with gorgeous flora and necklaces of precious stones. He waves off the other gifts with a kind hand, though he does keep in hand one of the flower chains that a tiny girl offered to him, grinning at him with wide eyes and pearly teeth. The two peoples gathering at the banquet for the treaty have never even been to war — rather, the document was to secure a network of trade between them, as they held resources the other lacked in their respective areas. 

The dining hall was certainly a sight to behold. Golden metals glimmered on the walls from the crested ceiling which held iridescent skylights to the utensils that lined the many tables in the room. There was a small stage at the center end of the hall, adorned in flora around its edges, where musicians set up their instruments for that night’s festivities. Mace Windu was guided to the chairs at the center of the room near the stage. He was surprised that though the dining hall was packed with the planet’s peoples, he was the only Jedi to be present. In fact, he and one other person were the only ones with an invitation present at the event.

Mace recognizes the raven curls organized into a clean cut and the scarlet line that ran through the side of a sculpted face, sitting next to Mace’s assigned chair. Commander Cody was here, donning his improved Phase II armor, with many newer aspects though it retained much of its original design. Cody hears the sounds of Mace’s footsteps approach from behind him, and swivels his head towards his direction.

“Greetings, General Windu,” he says to Mace. He’s a lot more exhausted now, dark circles resting beneath his tired eyes that have found solace in this haven of sorts. The scowl that rested permanently on his facade now that the stakes were higher in the galactic conflict, grim and calculating, gave away to a kind smile at the sight of the general..

“Hello, Cody,” he greets. They had cultivated somewhat of a unique friendship since the destruction of the droid factories out in the Outer Rim many months ago. Most of their conversations were held out on the clashing frontier when Generals Windu and Kenobi worked side-by-side, casually exchanging banter as they cut through the enemy defenses. Cody was under the lead of a different general and he was in close contact with the 501st more so than the 91st, though they met pretty frequently enough to spark up a small companionship between them. It was Cody, actually, who took it upon himself to console Windu after the death of Commander Ponds.

( _He was my brother too_ , he had whispered to him when all else was quiet, and it was more comfort than anything else he could say. )

“Not to be rude,” Mace starts, noting the garland of bountiful flora forced around Cody’s neck, “but where is General Kenobi? Shouldn’t he be here beside you?”

Cody sighs, holding so much exasperation it would not be a surprise that his accelerated aging would increase tenfold. “General Skywalker went to investigate a strange occurrence down at the beach a few klicks away from here. Commander Tano had followed him. When they hadn’t come back, General Kenobi went to look for them. When he hadn’t come back, Captain Rex went to look for him. So now I’m here” — he makes a sour face at a half-eaten tart on his plate — “getting fat on appetizers.”

Mace grimaces in sympathy. He knew with certainty that Anakin and his Padawan’s reckless curiosity would get them killed at some point, with Obi-Wan and Rex having to clean up the mess. “I’d have thought you’d leave the celebration to go find them. Since, if I can only guess, Captain Rex has also not come back.”

“I would,” Cody says, “but it’d be pretty rude to leave and have no Jedi nor clones present for this banquet.”

Mace raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, I’m here now. If you want, I can cover for you while you try to find those rogues.”

Cody ponders on his offer for a moment, before he shakes his head in refusal. “Nah. I’ve already had too many near-death experiences this past week. I can’t have you drowning in bouquets all by yourself. At least when I have the opportunity to watch it go down.”

His words are light-hearted and playful. He had not expected Commander Cody to be generous enough to stay by Windu’s side while the others have gone off on another of their high-risk adventures. Though, it was well-known throughout the army that Cody was stubborn, loyal, and, in Obi-Wan's true words, a good man. Words that Mace Windu believed in without a shadow of a doubt. He’s honestly touched from the small gesture, though he still retains a pleasant look of surprise.

“Thank you, Commander,” Mace tells him. “I wish your general was as thoughtful as you.”

Commander Cody laughs. “He is thoughtful, really. He’s just… you know.”

“I know. I share a Council seat with him.”

“Well, I work with him. So for me, it’s ten times worse. Especially when he starts flirting with the enemy for the sixth time in a row.”

Mace snorts. “I’m surprised you haven’t opened fire on him yet.”

“Honestly,” Cody responds, “so am I.”

They are interrupted from their conservation with the announced arrival of the main courses. Roasted bird and creamy white sauce is placed in front of Mace’s section of the table, and seafood dipped into brown-colored stew is situated next to Cody’s plate. Appetizers come in small trays and sauces are placed in tiny boats, each carefully prepared and placed into a neat row on the table. All those gathered dug into their dinner immediately. Mace treats himself to tenderly-cooked meat with a few vegetables to go with it, while Cody reaches for a large salad bowl to add to his half-empty plate.

Mace takes a bite out of the cut of meat and hums pleasantly at the taste. “Food here is good. Much better than the standard rations.”

Cody groans at his comment. “Don’t remind me. Let me drown in my salad dressing in peace.” Mace takes amusement from this with a smirk. 

Suddenly, a little boy with shimmering ocean-colored skin and spots decorating his cheeks like freckles runs down the narrow walkway between the tables up to Commander Cody. He’s dressed in a long white tunic that stretches down to his knees and pants that hang at a bell-bottom, and frosty curls bounce atop of his head as he skips over. He slows to a stop right next to Cody, who gazes up at him with admiring and excited eyes. “Oh,” the commander hums, twisting in his seat to get a better look at the new guest to their little duo. “Hey there, kid. You need something?”

The kid nods and stretches out his arms, bouncing on the balls of his feet in visible earnest. Commander Cody is understandably confused at first but soon realizes what the child wants. “Oh, you want to sit with me?” The little boy nods rapidly. Cody smiles gently at the child and hooks his hands beneath the boy’s armpits, lifting him up with ease and plopping him down on one of his legs with a dramatic huff. The little boy’s smile increases in sides, and he kicks his legs happily while Cody returns back to his lime green salad.

“You certainly have a way with children,” Mace comments. 

“This little guy had been following me around since we got here,” Cody chuckles, one of his hands reaching up to pet the boy’s soft curls. “He wasn’t much of a talker at first, but he warmed up to me after a while.”

“He doesn’t have any parents around?”

“Not that I know of. I asked some of the locals. Kids in this city basically roam free since the whole place knows each other my name.” He bounces his leg were the child sits. The boy giggles from the momentum, tilting his chin up to gaze at Cody with fun, star-filled eyes. “He’s apparently helping with the ceremony this evening.”

“Well, he certainly seems to have attached himself to you,” Mace says. “He’s basically a part of your leg now.”

“Oh no,” Cody mutters dryly. “I’ll have to drag him to our next mission. He’ll have to be my extra blaster.” 

They both chuckle before they return to their food. Mace watches with a careful eye when the boy attempts to teach Cody a small clapping game, the commander’s persona switching to a much less stricter state. The way Cody cradles the boy in his lap and his manner of speech when talking to him suggested that he has done this sort of thing before, most likely with the cadets back on his home planet of Kamino. Cody was one of the first to be born from the batches of Kamino, which made him much older than the other clones that had been decanted over the years before Kenobi had discovered them. He must have gotten this experience from those times, along with the few occasions where he was stationed on Kamino to oversee training. 

When he plays with the child the entire dinner, the aura he has as a commander falls to something more benevolent and sweet. He holds the boy with the utmost care and he beams when he is able to drive wholesome giggles from him. Mace would even call it adorable. One of the most effective and no-nonsense commanders in the entire GAR, yet that is shattered by the mere image of him in the present scene. There is something about it that fills Mace with a sense of nostalgia, though not in the way nostalgia is supposed to be. Nostalgia is a yearning for the past, but in the present moment it’s a yearning for something of the opposite.

His thoughts are cut short when the ceremony begins with a hush of the crowd, right when four of the ditchers that had left hours before burst through the doors, the sudden bang shaking the dining hall and even making Mace’s glass quiver to a near fall off the table if the Jedi wasn’t already so quick. Everyone turns to the sight of the party crashers, frozen in place while all the attendees stare at them in surprise. Obi-Wan and Anakin, with hair mussed up to the roots and eyes that have seen the end of days, are permanently stuck in time. Ahsoka grimaces at their humiliation before smiling shyly, raising a hand in a small wave to the audience. Rex looks as if he would jump into the nearest starship and crash into a black hole.

Mace Windu already feels the oncoming headache, instinctively pouring the bottle of wine into his glass. He glimpses at Cody, equally exhausted, and pours some too into his drink. The child sitting on Cody attempts to reach for the beverage but Cody gently stops him and places his hands back down in his lap.

The signing of the treaty otherwise went smoothly, and the two leaders for the groups now in a trade deal shake hands to the roaring of the crowd. It is a livid celebration — locals popped caps and corks off of bottles of rum, kids danced and sung onstage with the child in Cody’s lap leading the craze, and the attendees threw garlands of multicolored flowers and precious metals around the Republic overseers’ necks before they could mutter a word. Ahsoka had earned a braid of elegant petal on each of her montrals, and Rex bent down for a young girl to place a flower crown adorned in beads atop the blond fuzz of his head. The food was quickly taken away and the tables were placed at the walls of the room, converting the dining hall into a vivid ballroom. Ahsoka and Anakin quickly joined in with the dancers on the floor, even managing to drag Obi-Wan into a growing dance line. Mace, Cody, and Rex remained on the sidelines, stifling their laughter as they watched Anakin and Ahsoka place Obi-Wan on their conjoined shoulders, much to the Master’s protests.

Rex shakes his head, grinning slyly. “Well, I’d say I feel bad for General Kenobi but… he deserves this.”

“Deserves a break?” Cody asks. “Or deserves the general and commander throwing him into the air like confetti?”

Rex shrugs. “Both.”

“Well, I’m glad the treaty was a success,” Windu says. He hasn’t seen this many people, grinning ear to ear and twirling with glee on the ballroom floor. The atmosphere was peaceful, one filled with hope, and Mace gets whiplash from how much it contrasted with much of his daily life now. Before he had attended this party he had been patching up wounded soldiers of the 91st, easing broken limbs and mourning missing eyes. Now he’s watching Anakin chug an entire glass of fruit punch in under a minute. It reminds him so much of the old days, before the Clone Wars, when the only conflicts in the galaxy were criminal schemes and the occasional government gala.

“Me too.” Rex is disturbed from their small talk when a small group of children grab onto his arm, attempting to pull him into the dance circle occuring on center floor. Rex groans but he doesn’t refuse their magnetic pull, and he sends a look to the rest of their little huddle. “I’ll be back. Gotta see what these little gundarks need me for. Ow, okay! I’m coming, I’m coming!” He chortles as he’s dragged to the dance floor. That’s the last they see of Rex before the demons steal him away from sight.

“Thank the Force that isn’t me,” Cody mumbles.

Mace tics up an eyebrow at him. “You don’t like dancing?”

“No. I absolutely adore it. Been my passion since I was a cadet.”

Mace would have commented that Cody’s bold sarcasm would one day get him killed, but the commander has survived this long that he doubts he could die _at all_. “How about we leave?” Mace suggests. “There’s a terrace outside. I’m sure you do not want to end up like Rex.”

“And become food for the kids?” Cody chuckles. “I’ll take the terrace.”

They exit out through one of the doors to the sides of the dining hall leading out towards the space. The moon gleams an illustrious white against the dark reaches of space, draping the small terrace with silver. When Mace shuts the door to allow them some privacy, the chatter and music pounding in his ears was muffled, finally allowing him to listen to the soothing presence of nature outside. The terrace overlooked a long stretch of beach spanning for kilos, the sands white and rolling waves a tender indigo. It ended at the sheer face of the cliff the party was perched on, which dropped off at a sharp angle only prevented by a small gate the length of Mace’s hip. In the rolling hills by their said were gorgeous villas, standing tall and beautiful but empty, as most of the people were attending the party.

“Wow,” Cody mumbles. Out in the seas boomed the moaning of large aquatic mammals occasionally rising to the surface for air, smooth black and white skin shimmering in the moonlight before they disappeared back in the depths below. “Nice view.”

“It is one of the most visited tourist spots in this part of the rim,” Mace agrees. “Though based on what Anakin had told me, I am sure there are some secrets that not many tourists are familiar with.”

“Giant crustacean creatures that feed on sentient flesh.” Cody laughs at the absolute absurdity. “Why does every nice planet we go to have some weird catch?”

“It’s not a surprise. Coruscant has a criminal underworld. Alderaan has several corrupt officials. And Tatooine…”

“… is Tatooine.”

Mace smiles at him. “Precisely.”

Cody smiles to himself in satisfaction, watching avians glide over them and down the beach like falling stars, eyes glinting from the beauty of the world beyond. “Well, any planet is an upgrade after living on Kamino for so long. Torrential rains, deadly oceans, violent storms. Spent most of my time there stuck inside.”

Mace hummed, pondering whether or not to push the subject further. “What was it like? Growing up on Kamino? None of my troops have given me the luxury to learn about their training.”

Cody blinked at him. “You’d want to know?”

“It’s good for a general to get to know his troops,” Mace tells him. Cody’s skepticism falters when he says so.

“Well, the Kaminoans were less than hospitable to us,” Cody answers. “You know how Jango Fett personally oversaw my batch’s training — stuck up for us when those long-necks were breathing down our necks. Taught me all those phrases in Mando’a. Jango always complimented me, saying I was a fast learner. My _vode_ always complained that he had a soft spot for me back at Kamino. That I was his favorite.”

Mace can hear the dreadful longing in his voice, yearning for the simpler days under the watchful gaze of his own template. The sadness in Cody’s eyes brings up the memories of Geonosis, when Mace Windu had decapitated the bounty hunter in the arena without even a stumble. Jango Fett was a bounty hunter who worked for the Separatists — but Mace suffered greatly for the consequences of his actions. Boba, Jango’s son left behind an orphan, seeking revenge for the murder of his father. Ponds, killed in Boba’s blind vengeance and left to decay in the abyss of space. Despite Boba’s actions, Mace Windu had attempted to take responsibility and place the child under better care, and he still tried to this day, but the Republic seemed unflinching in their decision to put him on probation within their gaze. They saw the child, a young and traumatized child, as a threat.

Now Mace watched Cody’s eyes become vulnerable. Though Cody lacks the ability to use the Force, one could sense the melancholy within him. Mace’s actions lead to consequences, and though he learns from them, he can’t stop the events afterwards from taking place. All he can do is feel the weight of his past actions, like a boulder to his already sore shoulders. He’ll find a way to make things right in due time. 

“What about you?” Cody questions him. It snaps Windu out of his silent pondering. “Where did you grow up?”

“Haruun Kal,” Mace answers. “It’s located out in the Gevarno Loop. I don’t remember much of it. I was taken in by the Jedi Order when I was just a baby. I did return to it later on with my Padawan at that time, but… it was not a very eventful time for me.”

“A Padawan?”

“Depa Billaba. She’s already risen to the rank of a Jedi Knight, and had even taken in a Padawan of her own. I should introduce you to her sometime if I get the chance.” Mace can’t hold back the fondness in his words, comforted by the faraway presence of his former Padawan, their bond still strong despite how long ago that time was. He would have to speak with her sometime soon; he was beginning to miss her company.

“I’d like that,” Cody says. “Weird. I never knew you had a Padawan. So, you’ve been raised by the Jedi Order since you were a cadet?”

“Yes, not quite like how you had grown up but similar nonetheless. Eventually I went from a youngling to a Padawan, then a Padawan to a Knight, then a Knight to… well, I am sure you get the idea.”

“I do,” Cody laughs. He leans against the blockade of the terrace, observing the moonlight reflected on the ocean waves. “And now you are a high general in a galactic-wide conflict.”

“And you are the clone of an infamous bounty hunter fighting for the Republic.” Mace goes quiet, allowing for the whistle of the wind and the calls of the avians to pass by before he asks the question. “How do you truly feel about the war?”

Cody doesn’t answer immediately, rendered silent by the sudden inquiry. Mace can sense bewilderment and confusion in him, imagining the perversion of emotions that are no doubt shifting on his face. Finally, Cody’s signature settles to something more comfortable. “You’d probably hate me for saying it.”

“Oh, trust me, I don’t hate,” Mace responds. “To an extent.”

At his joke, Cody snorts, but it is short-lived. “Well, if you say that — I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. It’s only been a year, and I’ve already lost so many of my brothers. General Kenobi helps me and the men as best as he can, and it’s greatly appreciated. He’s done more for us than I can believe. But I don’t think the Jedi will ever understand losing one of your own. At least in the way we experience it.

“And as it goes on, I don’t have an idea when this war is going to end. Or frankly, what’s going to happen when we defeat the Separatists.” Cody glances at Mace, making sure the latter is still listening to him. “Do you know? What will happen to the clones?”

There are many ways it could end. The clones are Republic property, no matter how much the phrase leaves such a sour taste in a mouth, and they didn’t have any rights that other sentients were able to exercise. They were unpaid. They had no seat in the Senate and depended on other senators to make decisions concerning their well-being. They were replaced just as quickly as they were killed on the battlefield. The Kaminoans described them as assets, property and akin to droids. Slaves, Mace dares to call it. With their luck, the Senate would decommission (a word that made even the strongest of clone commanders shudder) the cadets training on Kamino, perhaps even the entire army to save costs. They may abandon the clones altogether, alone in the galaxy with no rights or a coin to their name. Abandoned once they have exhausted their use.

Mace is rarely affected by hostility and heartlessness in the galaxy. But the thought of leaving the clones to die is enough to make his skin crawl, along with the rising possibility that he and the other Jedi may have contributed to it.

“I’m sorry,” Mace apologizes, shaking his head, because what else could he say? “I do not.”

Cody sighs. The dark circles rimming his eyes are more prominent, his scar suddenly looking fresh once more in the light of the moon. “Me neither.” His hands grip the edge of the terrace, shaking with bitterness as the commander keeps his composure intact. “I just wish I could see the end of this bloody war. And know that what we’re fighting for is worth it. If it means my brothers could go free.”

Commander Cody truly was a sight to behold. So loyal to his brothers, willing to fight the Republic if it means to keep them safe. _The galaxy needs more people like him_ , Mace can’t help but think after Cody pours his heart out for him to see. Though the clones were bred specifically to fight for their Republic, victory their highest priority in the midst of this conflict, they were not mindless drones — they had thoughts, feelings, and core beliefs of their own. Cody was a prime example of this. He was genuine, kind-hearted, and still managed to keep a level-head in the darkest of times. Mace admired his courage and bravery, as well as this benevolent side of him he was allowed to see.

“I don’t make promises often,” Mace admits to Cody to penetrate the silence. “Honestly, I don’t like making them either but… I _will_ find a way to save you and your brothers. If I have to introduce Chancellor Palpatine to the business end of my lightsaber to do it, then so be it.”

Cody looks at him, surprise dawning on his face. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I am,” Mace answers. There is not a twinge of sarcasm in his voice, blunt and honest with his promise. “The Republic is wrong in their views of the clones. You are not property, no matter how many arguments they make about it. Maybe you and I can work together to gain Republic citizenship for the clones. I’m sure Master Plo and many other Jedi would be behind it as well. But I can promise you that when the opportunity comes, I will take it.”

Cody scans his face for a few moments, trying to find any lie within Mace’s words but finding none. Mace tells the truth. He _will_ find a way to save the clones from decommission or worse for when the war ends, Republic be damned. He’s lost too many — Ponds, Velkro, Evergreen. They must all be remembered. For them to die for the Republic only to be discarded as property was against everything the Jedi stood for and where Mace’s core beliefs lied. Now in the midst of a war spanning across the galaxy, Mace Windu must fight for the rights of millions of them fighting tooth and nail for the Republic. They will be remembered, no matter the cost.

Then Cody does something that stirs up genuine surprise in Mace. Tears had gathered at the edges of his eyes, one drop even managing to cascade down his cheek. The fierce and protective Commander Cody, vulnerable enough to cry in front of Master Windu. Mace doesn’t judge him at all — the commander deserved to let his guard down in front of others. The stresses of war take a toll on one’s person alone. It is better to be supported by one willing to fight for you. Mace leans forward and places a comforting hand on his back ( _he used to do that with Ponds, Ponds who is now one with the Force and will be eternal_ ), rubbing comfortable circles against the white and gold. Cody squeezes his eyes shut and quickly wipes the other tears that threaten to escape.

“Thank you,” Cody tells him, breathless and jovial. He’s smiling so wide. He’s never smiled that wide before, especially to Mace. “Thank you, sir.”

Mace shakes his head kindly. “Call me Mace.”

Cody’s face contorts into bafflement before his grin returns with full mirth. “Well, guess we have a new mission on our hands. If I ever find out that you’ve broken your promise—”

“I won’t,” Mace tells him, not leaving room for argument. “You and your brothers deserve this. Though, let’s say that in the rare instance I _do_ break it, I am giving you express permission to decapitate me with a lightsaber.”

Cody laughs, a melody that sings with the Force that dances around him. Mace has never realized it before, but in the moonlight of this peaceful planet, Cody looks stunning. The strobes of the party that had been forgotten ages ago decorate his face in an array of colors, violets and blues veiling his dark skin and making him shine like a crystal. His eyes are tender as they lock with Mace’s, hopeful with the misery in them dimming considerably, the glitter of his amber irises a sun that was no longer in the sky. Amidst the salty sea spray of the ocean, his scent is of golden honey and lukewarm tea, filling Mace’s senses with a calm. Cody’s presence soothes Mace’s soul in ways he’s never thought possible.

There is a warmth that threatens to rush to Mace’s face. His heart begins to beat against his ribcage, thundering and quick. The warm of a sun is present in his chest as he stares into Cody’s trusting eyes and—

Mace quickly shakes the feeling from his bones. He breaks the locked gazes he and Cody shared, the two returning to look out into the seas that hosted unknown creatures and singing waves. The distance between the two of them was a lot shorter than before, their shoulders barely grazing against one another. Upon this revelation, the feeling bubbles once more in his chest. Though it poses a worry in him, Mace is sure that it will disappear by the dawn of the next day when they have returned to Coruscant; the two of them would return to their regular relationship of snarky banter and simultaneous exasperation. This new emotion would be temporary, as to say otherwise would be rather foolish.

Yes, this would pass. He would make it so.

* * *

Despite how the feeling grows every time he and Cody wind up together during a mission, all is the same. They make sarcastic comments about other Jedi and soldiers, discuss with one another about the plan to free the clones, watch General Kenobi yet again lose a lightsaber during a battle and Skywalker influx Captain Rex in yet another one of his wild schemes. Though Mace cannot shake off the troubling feeling setting in his skin, everything is normal. Just like the present.

General Kenobi and Mace Windu accompanied by Commander Cody stood around the holoterminal at the center of a base situated on a jungle planet, where a holomap of a Separatist complex was projecting in shuttering blue. They were discussing battle plans for the overtake of a communications center located in their vicinity, and decided to send out a small squad in order to infiltrate and shut down their connection with the Separatist outposts located throughout the planet. There was an issue though.

“Scouts have said that there are Separatist camps present all around the center,” Obi-Wan explained, combing his hands through his beard in thought. “Three, to be exact. It will be difficult getting to the base, and if we do manage to hack into the center, there is still the manner of escape.”

“So you’re saying that if we want this mission to be successful, we will need to take out each of the camps,” Mace confirmed.

Obi-Wan nodded. Commander Cody tapped on the controls and increased the holomap’s range, showcasing the entire area and not just the communications center. There were three blinking dots that formed a triangle around the center to indicate the camps’ locations. Scout droids were apparently present around the area that prevented the scouts from investigating further, which meant that getting through the narrow gaps between camps unnoticed was near impossible. Cody narrowed his eyes, a million strategies formulating in his head.

“We could organize groups of three,” he suggested. “Stage attacks on each camp. Do they have any line of communications with the center?”

“It appears so,” Obi-Wan answered. “However, it has been reported that they do not have any connections with one another. They leave it to the scout droids to alert the other camps.”

Mace Windu caught on, fixing an impressed look at Cody. “You’re suggesting we deploy simultaneous attacks on each camp and shut down their connections to the center. That way when the scout droids are alerted of the attacks, the other camps will be unavailable by then. They’ll have to retreat to the center.”

Cody nods, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Which’ll give us enough time to capture them and shut them down.”

“And allows for the infiltration squad to sneak through undetected.” Mace hums in approval. “Good strategy, Commander.”

“It’s what I do best, sir,” Commander Cody says.

They stare at one another for far too long. It’s hard not to notice the way the glow of the hologram falls over Cody’s features in a lovely cerulean, or how Cody’s confident smile brings back the fuzzy emotions in Windu’s chest. They would have been frozen with locked gazes forever if Obi-Wan didn’t clear his throat to gain their attention once more. The young Jedi Master glances between them with a confused expression, eyebrow ticked up. “Well, I for one think that it is an excellent plan. I must stay here to prepare the men and organize the infiltration squad. And there is still the manner for who will lead the assault.”

“That’s alright, General Kenobi,” Mace Windu says. “The commander and I will round up the troops and lead the attacks on the camps.” He pauses, glancing at Commander Cody. “That _is_ if he cares to accompany me?”

Mace has known Cody for so long that despite the grim expression on his face, he was clearly holding back a snort. “Of course, General.”

“Then it’s settled,” Obi-Wan concludes. “Remember to be quick and efficient, and not to stir up _too_ much trouble. I’m counting on you both.”

“We’ll be alright, Master Kenobi.”

Mace really should have seen where his words would be his downfall. When they had marched into the jungle-infested planet to the communications center a klick or more away, he had walked in confident strides, eager to finish with the overtake of this planet the same as how he was eager to be finished with this war. It grows like a parasite across the galaxy, and though their efforts push it back were as effective as a vaccine, it only grows stronger and more infectious. He was arrogant, he thinks now, as he leans against a tree with a knife wound in his side, gritting his teeth as he clings to the bark of one of the large palm trees that tower over them like titans.

“ _General!”_ A scream pierces the air, but he can’t hear or recognize it over the seething agony that cuts near his gut, blood streaming down the beige of his tunics that have begun to morph into a horrendous shade of scarlet. A blaster shot was heard, and though his mind swims he can vaguely register the rustling of vegetation and the thump of a body against the ground. He had fallen to his knees by now, and was about to collapse fully on the ground if it weren’t for a pair of strong arms hooking themselves around his torso, turning him face up. Though his vision blurs all in shades of rose and purple, he can recognize the scent of cinnamon fields and honey warmth. The Force begins to hum beautifully, melodies attempting to mend the breach, severely contrasting the throbbing gash in his side, agonizing met with tranquility. There’s white and gold above him, almost like a sort of angel in this jungle.

Right. The jungle. They were in the jungle, infested with thick magenta branches and leaves of lavender, vines that hung from the canopy like spider webs and critters scurrying around tree bark. Serpentine animals slither across the jungle floor yet pay him no mind; avians dance through the air, chirping mating calls to one another as they perform graceful rituals; men donning white and gold armor surrounding Mace as he lays down in the lap of someone else. He blinks through the pain, looking upwards to find a familiar face, which had ripped off his helmet in a flurry once Mace had opened his eyes. Cutting edge cheeks, crimson scar slicing through the side of his facade, eyes of honey brown that were staring at him in frightening concern.

“General! General, can you hear me?” the man screamed out again. Next to Mace’s head was a smoking blaster, discarded within the trees. “Talk to me, general.”

“C… Cody,” Mace grits out, and Cody sighs in relief before his shoulders tense up once again. He sets a fiery look on his men as he holsters the blaster and hooks one of Mace’s arms over his shoulders. “Help me with him!” The other troops immediately follow, one of them taking the Jedi Master’s other arm and supporting his backside. The other men took up their rear, surrounding the bleeding general to ensure that he was not going to fumble. Cody and the other troop assist Mace in standing up and begin to walk him to the Separatist camp, the general’s legs quivering dangerously beneath him.

“You’ll be alright, General,” Cody promises him. Mace feels a tender hand press against his burned forehead, then against the gash on his side. He flinches from the contact, and the touch immediately disappears. Cody’s face is overwritten in concern and fear, his visage of a commander looking near the breaking point as Mace’s consciousness battles to stay awake. “You’ll be alright.” Despite the panic on his face, the commander still manages to sound strong and definite. More optimistic than Mace was given the current situation.

The memories come back to him once they arrive back to the camp. General Windu with Cody and his men lead the assault on the center camp, with the other two attacks taking place at the other points of the triad. They had arrived to find a camp of mostly droids along with a few humans. Golden jewels wrapped around their necks and drunken eyes rolled back their heads, laughing with one another as they chugged down excessive amounts of rum. Human slavers residing on the planet who have taken a liking to the Separatist cause. They must have been paid to stand guard against anything that dared to make their way to the communications center, meaning they also had to be dealt with like the metallic droids standing at their post. 

The attack had been successful. They launched without warning into the enemy camp, easily shutting off their communications before the slavers could run to them to alert the center, downing the number of droids and Separatist followers to none. Cody took out one of the scout droids, while Waxer had easily shot down a second one coming their way.

That was when, out of his peripheral, Mace caught sight of the last slaver, running into the undergrowth of the jungle. _Towards the center._ Mace’s fists clenched around his violet lightsaber before he took off in a sprint towards the man, ignoring the yells from Cody and his men as he chased down the last survivor. Obi-wan had been counting on them to allow him and his squad of infiltrators the chance to sneak into the Separatist complex without detection. If even one got away, that would be putting the mission in jeopardy. He could not afford to let any survive.

Mace had begun to gain on him when the drunken and clumsy slaver ceased to a sudden halt. Mace — seeing the opening for his lightsaber to cut through, pumped on adrenaline and focus — could not react in time when the slaver pulls out a silver dagger and stabs him in the side. He had cried out, lightsaber falling out of his hand from the immense shock. Then the pain set in, once the man had ripped the knife from the gash and opened the wound even more. Luckily Cody had been following the chase. When Mace had glanced back for when the two troops were leading him away from the incident, he could catch a glimpse of the slaver’s smoking corpse, a blaster shot ruthlessly cut through his skull.

They had finally arrived back to camp, where the rest of the men were stationed. Above the clearing that was made for the campsite was a large opening within the canopy, the light of the violet and rose-tinted sunset falling over the vegetation and soil. The 212th shot up from their seats in a panic once they saw Mace’s limping body and began to make arrangements, grabbing medkits with other supplies to place beneath one of the tents at the camp. One of them, Helix, tattoo of a helix shape traveling down the center of his face, approaches them in a haste. Crys, the clone holding Windu’s arm, switches places with Helix so the medic and commander could continue supporting his weight. Mace groans as he’s led inside to the prepared tent, head throbbing in relation to the gushing wound on his side.

Helix went to work immediately, making sure Mace was comfortable as he tended to the wound. It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it did burn like hell; despite his high tolerance to pain, the agony set in Mace’s side was continuous even when the bleeding was blocked by the bandages. Mace would be unable to walk all the way to base, and he absolutely refused to let the men carry his weight when they were already weary after the trek through the jungle. They decided to stay overnight at the camp and have Obi-Wan comm them post-infiltration. Cody was standing at the corner of the tent the whole time, watching Helix work on Mace’s wound while the Jedi grit his teeth to handle the pain. He never takes his eyes off Mace once, not even when he is caught up in a discussion with his men. There is a lightsaber clipped to his belt alongside his blaster — Mace’s lightsaber.

Mace lays there after Helix has finished, tunic discarded on a nearby chair, relatively fine now that the damage was done. Cody had ordered all the men out of the tent, asking them to bring them some food when they began cooking dinner. He then kneels by Mace’s side. Cody glares down at him when Mace shifts accidentally, the bandages coming loose around his middle. He curses at him in Mando’a. “Hold still, will you?”

“My apologies,” Mace Windu answers dryly. He winces when Cody unwraps the last few sections of the bandages before rewrapping it again. Crimson already stains through the white cloth and leaks onto the cot below. Mace attempts to rest as still as possible while the commander is fixing up the bandage work. “It was not my intention to be stabbed during our mission.”

“You’re lucky that it had missed your vital organs,” Cody mumbles, tightening the bandages to apply more pressure before he fastens it with a pin, making the Jedi Master grunt in discomfort. Cody’s exasperated look is replaced by an apologetic one. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Mace tells him. He can remember the drunken slaver advancing towards him as he curled into himself from the agony. The shot flying through the hair and piercing the slaver right between his eyes, his irises rolling back as he crumples to the ground, smoke trailing from the canal through his skull. Cody’s face was hidden beneath his helmet, yet the Force roared in fury around his presence. “You saved my life out there.”

“Cut it,” Cody huffs, but the creases of his forehead and the furrow of his eyebrows loosen a bit. “You were the one to notice the man before he attempted to run to the center. The least I could do was stop him before he got away, or hurt you any further.”

Mace snorts. “You did good.” He grimaces as another flare of pain surges through him, noticeably diminished but still uncomfortable. He reaches over to the wound to hold onto it when Cody stops him, grabbing his hands before they can graze his wound. Despite the black leather of his gloves preventing them from touching one another skin to skin, his hands are warm and gentle.

“Unless you want to open up that wound any further,” Cody reprimands him, “I suggest you keep your hands away from the gash at your side.”

Mace scoffs. “Commander, you know that I am not one to seek out trouble.”

“No,” Cody agrees. “But you still attract wherever you go.”

Mace huffs in exasperation, but he doesn’t argue any further. The commander was like a mountain of immovable rock, far too stubborn to listen to his opinion. He notices, then, that Cody has not yet let go of his hands — in fact, their fingers were now intertwined with one another, the soft leather glove fitting perfectly around Mace’s hands. The Jedi doesn’t comment on it, instead turning to other matters despite the twisting feeling that occurs within his stomach. “So, did Obi-Wan’s squad make it to the communication’s center?”

“Possibly, though we won’t know until the end of tonight.” They couldn’t risk trying to comm him, as Obi-Wan’s mission was strictly stealth and he ordered neither of them to contact him while he was gone. There was fortunately the good news that the assaults on the other camps have been successful and the center was not alert of their presence. Cody releases one of Mace’s hands to fix the makeshift pillow behind his head. “However, even if he did, you are in no position to move. We’ll have to stay here for a while.” 

“Great,” Mace mutters. “With the giant mosquitos and man-eating lizards of the jungle.”

“You’re the one that decided to run after the guy and get stabbed.”

“Again, not my intention.”

Cody chuckles, but it lasts only for a few moments before his face is overcome with overbearing concern. He leans close to inspect the crimson throbbing through Mace’s bandages. The bleeding was mild now that Mace’s body had begun the process of mending itself, and the bacta pack beneath the bandages had begun its steady work. “You’re not uncomfortable? Or at least more than you’re supposed to feel.”

“I think I’m alright,” Mace answers.

Cody scans his face. The commander was akin to a human lie detector, able to see through another person’s lies with just a look. Mace was a master when it came to hiding emotions and words behind clean composure, having learned from the training he had received from the Jedi Temple. But Cody was able to see through even the most carefully structured lies, noticing discomforted tics in features and frantic glances, easily picking apart an ally just as well as an enemy. Mace couldn’t lie to Cody, no matter how long he could play the game. Finally, Cody relinquishes his search, shoulders relaxing to some degree. “Alright, I believe you.”

Helix barges through the opening of the tent afterwards, holding two bowls of stew that the troops had brewed around the open fire outside. He handed both of them carefully to Cody, who nods to him in gratitude. Helix tends to Master Windu then, checking the wound and any discomfort the general may have. The medic was very kind-hearted and compassionate, and hovered over him like a mother hen. Mace would be telling a lie if he didn’t grow a little fond over how the young clone was fussing over him.

Helix frowns at Cody when he says he’ll watch over Mace for the night, concerned for his commander’s well-being just as he was with the general, though he makes no comment. He knows he can’t reason with him. Helix leaves once he’s satisfied, telling them he would be back in an hour to change his bandages before bed.

“I didn’t expect you to stay by my bedside the whole night,” Mace comments dryly, causing Cody to chuckle out loud.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He takes a sip of his soup and helps Mace sit up to hand him his bowl. Mace could admit that he was very hungry, as he had not eaten since the rations served at breakfast back at the base. The broth was a warmth to his empty stomach with the chewy meat more than pleasant against his tongue, and he was able to finish it after several gulps. He places it down on the ground when he catches a glance of Cody’s belt, where his lightsaber is still clipped next to the blaster. It was relatively unharmed after the fall it took when Mace had unceremoniously dropped it.

Cody follows his gaze to his hip and vocalizes a soft “oh.” He quickly unclips the lightsaber from his waist, placing it on top of Mace’s tunic discarded on a nearby chair. It glimmers in the light of the lamp hanging over their heads, illuminating the small space of the tent.

“Thank you, commander,” Mace says. Cody rolls his eyes fondly.

“It’s nothin’. I swear you are becoming more like General Kenobi with every passing day.”

“In a good way? Or a bad way?”

Cody makes direct eye contact with him, deadpan as he finishes the rest of the bowl. “I’ll let you be the judge of that.” 

The blunt comment is enough to make Mace chortle quietly, then descend into a fit of coughs. Cody reaches forward to gently push Mace’s chest down so he rests back on the cot. “Just lay down,” Cody whispers to him. His voice had fallen to a rare softness in his tone. “You’ll be fine. Just rest.”

Mace nods. Cody’s face is illuminated in the light of the lantern in the tent, cast in a rippling shade of gold that makes him look like the personification of a sword, sharp to the point and gleaming in the makeshift sun. The shadows cast over his face accentuate the dark circles beneath his eyes and the exhaustion in his bones, watching over Mace while the troops’ laughter echoed from the bonfire at the center of camp. Both of them yearned to be outside, to be lost in the banter and bickering of Cody’s brethren as they ate their broths and sang around the campfire. But Mace was unable to move lest he make the experience harder for himself, and Cody was adamant about being by his side til dawn.

It’s quiet for the most part. In the middle of the jungle, the crickets of the insects that hide within tree bark provided a sense of comfort in these times, the calls of birds resting in the trees soothing the agony inflicted on Mace’s body. There is a strange cry from an unknown creature at times, deep in the forest, and it is followed by a chorus of others of its kind. It’s almost as if the jungle sings alongside the Force. It’s enough to clear his head, once again centering himself in the present, and he lets his mind wander as he lets the music of the forest overtake him.

The commander had turned to polish his blaster, which was scratched to the muzzle after one of the slavers had kicked it straight out of his hand (Cody had retaliated by clocking the man so far up the nose his eyes must have sprouted out from the back of his head). The Force hummed sweetly like cathedral bells around him as always, but with closer inspection, Mace could hear something intertwining the music in the form of words. Even more curious, it appeared to come from a more physical manifestation, not with the same spiritual essence as the Force. Puzzled by this, Mace opens his eyes and feels his breath hitch. 

Commander Cody, beneath his breath, had begun to sing. His voice is angelic and tender, cascading rivers and sparkling falls; for a moment, Mace forgets the galaxy at large and only focuses only on Cody’s voice which permeates throughout the tent. The war, the battles, the pain and strife all fade away until all is left is golden rivers, treading down cliff sides.

Cody abruptly ceases cleaning his gun. Mace notices now that Cody was looking directly at him, eyes widened in shock and cheeks flushed in embarrassment once he realizes his voice was heard. The melody drops dead, and save for the voices of the clones outside and the chirps of the jungle, the tent is silent.

“Sorry,” Cody apologizes, face burning with shame. Mace, however, quiets the man’s turmoil by placing a hand on the commander’s knee. Cody tenses beneath the hold but releases it once Mace speaks, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Don’t be,” Mace tells him. “Keep going.”

Cody stares at him bewildered, processing the sudden request. He begins to sing. At first, his voice is shaky and hesitant, unlike when he had been singing to himself only a few moments before. Then, as Mace closes his eyes to let the music flood his ears, he begins to gain back confidence. The soft melody returns to its full glory, Cody’s voice elegant and tender, and he picks back up cleaning his blaster while Windu listens intently. The lyrics Cody sings are in Mando’a, but Mace has not heard this song from anywhere he’s been to. None of the troops have chanted this tune either. Mace realizes then that this may be of Cody’s original work, and the revelation brings familiar warmth to Mace’s chest. The cold of the night is a forgotten memory as he is lulled by the aria.

“Wow,” Mace whispers when Cody finishes. “Did you write that?”

The flush of Cody’s cheeks return, the darkness blooming across his face from the unanticipated answer. “Yes. We, uh, had some free time on Kamino, and I passed the time by writing songs. It became a sort of habit and… well, Wolffe always said I had a talent when it came to singing and all that.”

“You’re good.”

“If you tell anyone else, I’m legally obligated to kill you.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Mace answers honestly. “Your voice is beautiful.” 

He had not intended to make that statement to the commander, nor do it with such a breathlessness in his tone that he appeared like a youngling arriving to the Jedi Temple for the first time. Cody lost his composure for a few seconds before a smile appeared on his visage, seemingly melting in his place. His eyes are practically glowing with his emotion and the illumination of the lamplight. “Thank you, sir.” Mace can’t help but smile back. His weary body feels uncharacteristically light-weight, only fixating on the tender gaze Commander Cody gives him. 

Cody suddenly clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, set up the blankets. You must be cold.”

Mace fights back a surge of disappointment. “That would be ideal. Thank you, commander.”

The bonfire is extinguished, and all the men return to their tents for the night. Helix had arrived to check on his progress a final time, and opted to replace Mace’s soaked bandaging. While Cody had been placing the sheets over Mace’s shivering body, he had received a call from General Kenobi, reporting that the infiltration was a success and the outposts across the planet were now available for Republic takeover. Cody, in turn, updated Obi-Wan about successful camp assaults and Mace Windu’s present condition. Despite the worry creeping into the Jedi Master’s voice once Cody beared the news, he seemed relatively satisfied and regarded Mace with his best wishes. He would stay at one of the overtaken camps for the night, and promised to aid with moving Windu back to base next morning.

The blankets strewn over Mace’s body were adequate, not soft but able to provide enough warmth to get him through the night. Cody closes the opening to the tent and takes the lantern hanging from one of the main beams supporting the small structure, placing it by Mace’s head. He then stripped off the plastoid-alloy covering his body, leaving him in the blacks that hugged his body tightly. Mace doesn’t stare, but he does note that beneath the bulk of his armor Cody appears more slender and skinny. His height is diminished by an inch, and his waist and shoulders are much narrower than with the chestplate and shoulder pauldrons. It’s rather something when he witnesses Cody’s true form beneath the armor.

“Commander, I advise you to rest,” Mace tells him when Cody sits at his side on the cot, making no move to sleep. He can sense Cody’s tire, and caught stifling a yawn behind the back of his hand a few instances.

Cody makes a face at him. “General, we are in the middle of the jungle. We don’t exactly know what lurks out there, or how much of a threat they can be.”

“Don’t you have lookouts on the perimeter of the camp?”

“Of course, but—”

“Commander.” Mace gives him a pointed look. “That is an order.” For once, Commander Cody heaves a sigh of defeat, mumbling something under his breath that sounded similar to a murder oath, before he lays down next to Mace’s body, throwing his own blanket over him. 

“Alright, General. But I’m not falling asleep until you are.”

Mace spares a small smile. “I appreciate the gesture.”

He later wakes up in the middle of the night, his eyes opening once more to the darkness of the tent, the light of the lantern extinguished when Mace had fallen asleep. He can hear the cicadas crying out in the forest, the same bellowing howls of the unknown creatures roaming the biome; though the entrance to the tent is sealed, the smell of petrichor filters through the gaps and eases Mace’s mind. He lifts up the blanket to find that his wound was no longer bleeding out, the new bandages Helix had wrapped around him fresher than the discarded old ones. 

He cranes his neck and finds Commander Cody facing him, asleep with eyelids fluttered shut and snoring quietly through his nose. Mace can’t hold back the small smile that erupts from his face, feeling his gaze soften as his eyes set on the dozing commander. When he was asleep, he could have been mistaken for an angel — the worry lines disappear from his facade, the battle-hardened gaze he holds with grit melting into slumber. For once the commander is at ease, lost in a dreamscape away from this horrendous war. Mace’s wretched heart finds peace at the sight. He almost wants to reach up and caress the side of Cody’s face, reminiscing the melody he sang to him before they had went to bed, but he quickly pushes away the notion. Such an action would be inappropriate, and even small displays of affection needed restraint when one was a Jedi but—

The revelation dawns on him like a freezing ocean to his face. He can recognize it — the fuzzy feeling that erupts from his chest when Commander Cody so much as looks at him, the way butterflies stir in his gut whenever he hears him laugh at another of Mace’s dry comments, how the Force _sings_ whenever their gazes meet one another. When he observes the sleeping commander in front of him, it’s as if everything _clicks_ together. 

An unprompted “oh” escapes his mouth, and it’s as if he’s being stabbed again, not with a knife of silver but an arrow to the chest because _oh_. That’s why. That’s what that was. Now he can recognize the burning of his face and the warmth of the other’s presence and the scent of autumn against him, can put a name on it despite how utterly terrifying the realization was.

Mace Windu has fallen in love. A Jedi, fallen in love with an untouchable man. He can almost laugh at the irony.

* * *

The Jedi Code forbids attachments. Anything that stretches beyond friendship would be the route to being expelled from the Order, and even a Jedi’s attachment to their student or friend rested on thin ice. No one member could afford to become close with another sentient, could not even afford to keep hold to them once they had passed. To hang on to the corpses of those you have loved would be fatal — doing so has brought so much sorrow and pain to Jedi in the past, which was why the standard mourn and remember would be regularly drilled into the heads of Knights. To practice the Jedi way and bring order to the galaxy meant letting go of attachments, to allow the universe to take its toll on those it sets its eyes on. To not let your emotions take control lest you welcome in the Dark Side of the Force. 

By practicing Vaapad, Mace Windu laid between the Light and the Dark, barely grazing the black while never faltering from the white. Though his actions could be considered gray by many, he never strayed from the Jedi Code, and was held to the same accountability if he ever began to show signs of falling to the evil that plagues the galaxy. He could never afford to misstep, lest he fall victim to the pain and anger that threatens him every day of this gruesome war.

Cody was on the other side of the fine line of attachments. He was a clone commander, who took control of the 212th with a steady hand and a fierce exterior, who commanded respect not just from the clones but the Jedi as well. He could not afford to form another attachment, especially to a High Jedi General. His main purpose was to fight, to serve and protect the Republic and the Jedi assisting them, and he could not be distracted. Not only that, but Cody was responsible alongside Windu for their plan to free the clones from servitude once the war was over. If he was pulled from his hopes to give him and his brothers citizenship in the Republic, they would have abandoned a million human beings under their watch.

It was simple. Mace was a Jedi forbidden from infatuation and a general leading an army against the Separatist fleet. Cody was a clone commander owned by the Republic and a protector of his brethren. They could never, and shouldn’t ever, be anything beyond the bond they had formed.

But no matter how much Windu tries to convince himself to see reason, to remind himself that anything besides their carefully crafted partnership would be unwise and even foolish, he can’t get over it. The fleeting touches as they passed one another in the hangars of Coruscant. The handshakes they gave one another, lasting for far longer than what was necessary. The gazes across the room, the laughter shared alongside one another, the leaning against each other that never escalated more than close distance. With every day, Windu watches Commander Cody become more beautiful. When he locks eyes with him, the Force sings that simple song, the one that calms his aching heart and clears his head. The one Cody had sung to him that night, voice like cascading stones over a pool of crystal.

He thinks it’s best to place some distance between himself and Cody. He can’t afford to break the Code, or put Cody in any danger due to these growing emotions. If he lets these feelings get out of hand, he would be putting himself, the Jedi, and most importantly Cody in the ways of evil. Yes, he must break the small bond they had formed between them. Even if doing so would break Mace’s heart.

Unfortunately, the Force was one step ahead.

Only a few weeks after the infiltration of the Separatist complex, the 212th alongside the 501st were deployed to the shadowy world of Umbara to gain more ground for the army. It was meant to be a swift and safe victory, one that would be able to tip the scales in the favor of the Republic. But when they had returned, the air had been glum and hollow. The day that the 212th arrived on Coruscant, the Force had stopped singing its wondrous melody, replaced by the harrowing cries of a thousand wounded souls. Mace could not place why the atmosphere has changed to such a despairing tune when he received the report from Captain Rex. He nearly dropped the datapad from the voltage of electricity that jolted through his body.

When he had gone to attend to the survivors, he was treated to the sight of the wounded remainders of the previous thousands who had left, numbers docked down considerably. Their helmets were either discarded beneath their arms or were not present at all, dead gazes trained on the ground below. A few were crying, wails filtering through the base of Coruscant as they clung to one another for a sense of solidarity. Obi-Wan, who seemed to gray beyond his years, had guided Mace Windu from the chambers of the 501st where Mace was attempting to console a disconsolate Rex (he’s never seen him so exhausted, so desolate), leading him to where the 212th were resting. He had found Wooley, no longer a shiny by the chipped golden paint on his pauldrons and his signature that felt old and traumatized, curled up in his bunk and unmoving. He had found Boil holding the now deceased Waxer’s helmet, clutching to it like a lifeline as his body shook with his sobs, caressing over the sticker of a small Twi’lek pasted over the visor.

Mace Windu found Commander Cody, attending to some of the shinies and rookies of the 212th whose first mission was unfortunately on the midnight plains of Umbara, back turned to Mace as he consoled each one. As Mace neared closer, he could see the red rimming around Cody’s puffy eyes above where dark circles lied, the shakiness of his hold as he hugged a shiny that couldn’t be older than eight. Cody caught sight of him, and mouthed a small “not now,” and though he did not vocalize those words they felt so _broken_. Mace had nodded respectively, sending him a sympathetic glance before letting Obi-Wan lead him to where most the vets were packed.

When he had found the commander later, now alone and staring at one of the dull gray walls in the room, he could only situate himself by his side and place a hand on his back before the dam broke. He watched as Commander Cody’s strong exterior shattered, a fierce and bold commander now in pieces in his arms, and Mace guides his head to his shoulder as the man cries quietly. He makes no sound, his voice torn away from him like the brothers he had lost.

That was the second time Mace Windu saw Commander Cody cry in this war. 

Afterwards, there is something different between them. It’s as if a rift had opened up, threatening to swallow them whole if they got too close to each other. Cody became distant — sometimes, he couldn’t even look Windu in the eyes — and he hardly laughed at his sarcastic comments. Mace didn’t approach him about it. He knew that what Cody had experienced most likely ruined his image of Mace, moreso the image of the Jedi Order. He wouldn’t even speak one-on-one with Obi-Wan anymore. Mace could not blame Cody for his hostility towards the Jedi after the horrendous betrayal. 

He ignores the aching in his heart when Cody does not stay behind after briefings, when Cody leaves just as soon as he arrives. It’s good for them, Mace tells himself when his heart rips in two. These feelings may go away. And Cody will be safe. He’ll be safe.

While him and Cody are separated until further notice, Mace begins to attend to the survivors. It’s as if there’s a horrendous scar in the GAR, affecting all the clones and not just those who were present at Umbara. The Jedi — most of them, at least — attempted to aid in the recovery process. Mace was one of these Jedi. Though the Kaminoans said that the clones could withstand any amount of stress, Mace knew deep down that Umbara entailed more than just ‘stress.’ So he went to work. He listened to the stories of the vets and let them lean on his shoulder for a sense of comfort, asked the Council to let the 91st be on break on Coruscant for a month more, tried to comfort all who have been affected. 

He’s never seen his men this drastically hurt, their eyes overshadowed by horrors that Mace had the luxury to never see, their voices caught tight in their throat before sobs began to wrack their fragile bodies. Once Mace arrived to the barracks to find one of the surviving troopers of the 212th, tear tracks cascading down his chin as he held a blaster between his teeth. He had quickly intervened before the man had the chance to pull the trigger, gently lowering down the gun and guiding the poor trooper to his shoulder, allowing him to sob against the brown of his tunics. While the man does so, Mace holds back the tempting desire to rip Krell’s deceased body to shreds with his bare hands.

The process takes time. Eventually the troops recover, or at least say that they have recovered. Mace now despises the sight of a thousand clones being sent off for yet another mission, knowing full well that the darkness around their eyes and the howling of their souls never truly left. After Umbara, though him and Cody became distant, he began to work twice as hard with their plan to free the clones post-war. He even had Plo Koon, who refused to leave the Wolf Pack for a moment's rest and had only left them when Mace told him of his need, work with him on the plan. These troops deserved everything; the least the Jedi could do in return was to give them the right to a seat in the Senate.

It’s officially three years into the war. Three bloody, grueling years. In these three years, Mace has lost more people than he could count. Commander Ponds, Master Piell, Master Ima-Gun Di, Captain Keeli. He’s watched millions on both sides massacred with no mercy, seen the light of stars begin to fade as they pass by. He’s less of a Jedi and more of a General nowadays, speaking in battle tactics and thinking in strategy. The nightmares he has at night are stuffy and choking. He can see the dead walking the streets, ghostly forms that disappear as soon as he touches them. He’s lost too many. Too many people, too many planets, too many star systems. It feels like a cruel joke whenever the Force wills a new mission for him and his men to deploy on. He is sure that even the Separatist droids are tired of all this fighting.

And no matter how many battles they fought, they were no close to victory than where they started. The Republic and the Separatists were chasing each other in circles. All Mace wants is for the game to end.

( _All Mace wants is to wake up besides him, the man who smells of buttercups and morning sun, the man whose laughter was music to his ears._ )

Mace thought that the distance between him and Cody would be beneficial for the two of them. He was able to get more done with the plea to the Senate for the venerable dischargement of the clones once the war was over, and he became a lot closer with the new commander of the 91st Neyo, who was previously more occupied with Masters Gallia and Allie before Mace had a chance to speak with him. Being away from Cody’s presence left him with a lot more time to ponder on the state of the war and the state of the galaxy at large.

So it’s rather annoying that when he has time to think, it’s about Cody. It’s about Cody’s smirk that can rival the rays of a sun, his no-nonsense attitude and snarky sense of humor, his kindness to his _vode_ and his love towards children and his vulnerability that he let Mace Windu get glimpses of. It’s all about Cody. Mace realizes that with the increased distance between the two of them, the feelings blooming inside of his chest did not dissipate. Rather, they grew with every passing day. Mace Windu has fallen too far. He should have already discovered that the rift was no longer ceasing his attachment to him — it was only making it worse.

Now in the present, Mace steps towards one of the windows overlooking Coruscant, where the golden rays of the planet’s sun cast a glow over the skyscrapers beneath the tower. The air is brisk and warm; the city is a gorgeous white and gold that hid the corruption that Mace was too keenly aware of down below. He closes his eyes as he lets the Force hum in his ears, silence permeating that aided the sunset that cast the sky in shades of lavender and peach. He had just returned from a mission to another star system, where he aided Master Kenobi and his troops in fending off the attackers of a village. It ended successfully, and there were few casualties, but Mace’s heart was pulled by unseen strings when he viewed the corpses of fallen men, eyes sorrowful at the sight.

Now he was at peace, dispersing his troubles into the Force without a second thought. He’s too used to doing that. Too used to letting his sorrows fade away into the back of his head, to focus on the present and the future.

Then he hears it. The familiar tune that whistles in his ears and warms his chest. The melody that Cody had sung to him that night beneath the tent, where all else disappeared. He becomes keenly aware of his surroundings, the Force humming with honey sweet as he hears footsteps approach—

“Thought I’d find you here,” Commander Cody says from behind him. Mace turns his head to train on the man who settles besides him at the window, surveying the mass of buildings outside. For a second, Mace forgets all of his despair, his outstretch into the universe now centering on the beautiful man right in front of him. The commander looks tired, not just physically but emotionally, more withdrawn than his experience on the desert planet where Mace had first met him. Gold cascades down his face, softly tinting his cheeks in a glowing amber, eyes gilded from the reflection of skyscraper windows. Just one glimpse and Mace is knocked breathless by the sight.

He can’t afford to let it show, however. He hides his inner conflict with a snort. “Am I that melodramatic for you to predict every time I look at the scenery?”

“Yes,” Cody agrees, his smile diluted but nonetheless bright. “You could challenge General Kenobi if given the chance.”

“Who says I won’t?” 

It’s weird. They’ve been avoiding one another for months yet now here they were, finding each other unprompted. It could be mistaken that their temporary separation had never happened, and they have been speaking with one another this whole time. Mace thought that nothing would bring Cody back to him yet here the commander was, always diverting his expectations with a flourish. He can almost laugh at how it was so _him_ , how the action was unmistakably Cody’s own.

They stand in silence for a while, looking out into the golden oceans of metal and glass and people, going out about their daily lives. Since the war, life has changed drastically for Windu. It’s almost a consolation that others were willing to look past the blood-laden battles, eager to continue their routines even while the galaxy is slowly tearing itself down. 

He hears Cody inhale, as if preparing words for what to say to Mace post-hiatus from one another.

“I’m… sorry,” Cody apologizes. Mace raises an eyebrow, puzzled when he has registered the sudden words.

“What for, Commander?” he asks. 

“About avoiding you,” Cody answers. “Don’t give me that look, I know that you noticed. I wanted to talk with you, I honestly did but… after Krell, I needed a break from Jedi. If I didn’t trust you and your _aliit_ before, it definitely skyrocketed after Umbara. I needed some distance — and some time to think.”

Mace hums in response to his words. His reservations about Cody’s drastic change in behavior were correct. Despite how their separation had deeply wounded him more than any knife could, he was happy that Cody was able to find time to recover. It’s what he truly deserved. “You do not have to apologize, Commander,” Mace responded. “In all honesty, I needed some time to think as well.” 

“What about?”

Mace is quiet for a few pondering moments. “The Jedi weren’t meant to be generals,” Mace answers with careful words. He did not know how to structure his sentences, but it is better to be honest than to have Cody wait on his response. “We weren’t meant to be conquerors or battle strategists. We were supposed to protect all living beings. But… time and time again, we send you and your brethren out to fight without even a second thought. We put you at risk, and even we do not know what for. It is not the Jedi Way to send others to die, and definitely not to treat you like…”

He searches for the right term. Slaves. Servants. Cannon fodder. Each new word brings a sick feeling to Mace, that the thought of their treatment of the clones went right under their noses because of their desire to end this war. In the pursuit of General Grievous and Count Dooku, they had suffered countless casualties of people who were literally bred to _die_ for the Jedi. Though many were kind, after Mace’s contemplation on Krell’s actions, he realized that despite how benevolent they could be, they still had the chance to hurt the men under their command. Obi-Wan and Rex’s experiences on Kadavo further worsened the argument. 

This topic had been brought up too recently, when it should have been a matter of discussion the first year of the war. Mace knows that he was responsible for letting this slide — he had found the idea of using clones as unruly, yet he still contributed to their continued use. For that, no apology could ever suffice.

“Oh,” Cody vocalizes, rendered speechless for a couple of moments. “I… I never thought that… I mean, I’ve had. Ever since Slick’s betrayal on Christophsis, I couldn't get his words out of my head. I guess since that time I held more allegiance to my _vode_ than the Republic. My brothers had become my first priority. Then the battles escalated, and I was becoming frustrated with the Jedi for how many men I lost. Damn well almost started _blaming_ them but… I’m sorry, I’m going on for too long—”

“Don’t be, Commander,” Mace interrupts. “I am the one who must apologize. Without you, I do not think I would have acted upon this discovery.”

He recalls then what had occurred earlier that day, and realizes that this is the opportunity to break the news to Cody. “Stay right here, I have something to show you.” He excuses himself before walking to a nearby bench and finding his datapad resting atop it. Cody shoots him a puzzled look when he returns, tapping furiously on the tablet. He hands it to Cody wordlessly, allowing the commander to read it on his own accord.

“General, what is—?” he begins to ask before he glosses over the screen. Mace watches his eyes go wide, freezing in place when he reads the title of the document. “... this…” he finishes, the wind knocked out of him. “What…?”

“That,” Mace answers, “is the bill me and Senator Amidala have been working on, alongside Master Plo and Senator Organa. It’s a rough draft right now, of course, but when it is finished, the whole Senate will have to read it.”

Cody is shocked to silence, eyes boring holes into the datapad as he read over the words. “So, this…” Mace could see tears beginning to gather at the corner of his friend’s eyes.

“Yes.” Mace can’t help but smile at both the excitement of their plan finally being put into motion, and how Cody’s face is literally _glowing_ as he scans over the document. “That is the bill to free the clones from Republic property, and grant them Republic citizenship upon the end of the war. By the time we finish revising it, it will be presented to the Senate. That is… if you'd like to aid me with such a task?”

“Of course!” Cody responds immediately, loud in his surprise and excitement. “Of course, I would be willing to…to…”

Cody drops the datapad on the floor before lunging at Mace, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He buries his head into the Jedi’s shoulder, fingers clawing him at his tunics to retain their balance. Mace immediately reciprocated, wrapping his own arms around Cody’s middle, allowing the commander time to weep for joy at the news. He can’t help the blossoming feeling that grows in his gut, Cody’s touch enough to make him melt in his arms, reminiscing all the memories they had shared together in the past three years. He’s never seen the commander this happy, laughing almost like a maniac while sobbing shakily, grinning ear-to-ear and furiously wiping his tears away as he once again faced Mace, hands drifting down to cup Mace’s arms.

“Thank you,” Cody says to him with ungodly relief. Finally, his brothers had something to fight for in this war. His brothers would be safe, and it’s through this bill that it will be so. “Thank you.”

Mace smiles at him, sweet and tender. “No. Thank _you_ , Cody.”

They stay like that for a while, Windu holding Cody’s shorter stature by the waist, listening to his soft breathing and adoring the scent of honey that permeated from his signature. He forgot in that moment all about the Jedi Code and all that entailed. He forgot his rank as the champion of the Jedi and one of the most obedient followers of their Order. He forgot it all, even damned it because he has never felt his heart beat with so much joy every time Cody met his eyes. He was in pure euphoria, listening to the Force whistle with that gorgeous melody, filling his soul and washing over him like tides of an ocean.

They are still for an eternity. It is with bare recognition that they began to lean into one another, reluctant but involuntary. Then, in the manner of a split second that could be mistaken for centuries, the distance between them closes. Their lips meet.

Mace Windu was forbidden from love. The Jedi Code believed that to fall in love with another being was a way to the Dark Side, that allowing the heart to think before the mind would only lead to pain and suffering and the collapse of values they have upheld for many eons. But when Mace kisses Commander Cody, it feels the exact opposite. As if he can stretch out and touch each individual star system just from the soft press of their lips. The Force choruses loud as angel trumpets, the melody he’s had stuck in his head for years reaching a crescendo. His heart thumps and his blood rushes as all else is forgotten and he’s safe, comforted.

The kiss they share is soft, tender. No further pressure than the touching of their lips. He feels Cody relax under his fingertips as his own shoulders lose their tension, eyes falling shut as he reminisced in the star that was before him. Their respective hands fall to their hips, intertwining with one another. Mace is warm, the mere presence of Cody enough to make him feel complete.

When they break away, their gazes meet once again. The calm is suddenly replaced by a panic. Mace had broken the Jedi Code. He had shattered the carefully crafted morality and ideology that he had been building since his days as a Padawan, tore his entire oath to pieces after just a simple kiss. Falling in love was one thing — acting upon those emotions was another. But though his revelation was horrifying and threatening, he is still doused in the tranquility of being with Cody, as if he is not afraid of the future unless the commander was not by his side.

But he knows what this entailed. He knows that they would never be accepted together. That they were on two opposite sides, and they would never be together in the way they both yearned to be.

“Cody—” he tries to voice, his throat strung tight.

“I know, Mace.” The uttering of his name makes him shiver. Cody reaches up and caresses Mace’s face, fingertips clothed beneath black leather yet so intimate, so kind and human. His expression is one of melancholy, sadness as well as softness visible in his honey irises, full of painful understanding. He understood their situation better than anyone else could, and accepted it with but a sad smile. “I know.”

Mace wants to tell Cody more. Wants to tell him how long he’s held these feelings, to tell him that no matter the laws of the galaxy forbidding them from being together, he loved him with his entire being. He wants Cody to know that no matter what would happen, he would always be there to return to. But his voice is ripped out of him, left breathless in both the misery and the yearning. So, when words fail him, he leans back in and meets Cody in the middle, kissing him again.

And again. And again. And again.

They would figure this out later. They have been dancing around their shared feelings for so long, with fleeting touches prevented by armor and tender gazes hidden beneath visors. They did not know how they would bring this up with their respective peoples, nor how they would navigate a relationship that was destined to fall apart in the grips of a galactic war. They would have to figure it out together, when they had the opportunity.

But for now, he listens to the melody that the Force sings, like golden rivers over his wounded heart.

**Author's Note:**

> translations:  
> jare: kamikaze (someone taking a fatal, foolish risk)  
> Elek, a Ni jorhaa'ir bic jate'shya: Yes, but I speak it better  
> 'ika: little  
> Ni kelir kyr'amur gar: I will kill you  
> Jetii: Jedi  
> vod: sibling, comrade (pl. vode)  
> aliit: clan name, identity, family
> 
> yes, i know this is a long fic. shut up.


End file.
